


Don't Forget Us

by neioo



Series: Are we humans? [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Asexual Characters, F/F, F/M, Gore, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Military, Multi, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Sequel, Slow Build, Violence, established relationships - Freeform, warfare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 161,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neioo/pseuds/neioo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They thought it was over once the ‘Plan’ was completed. Time had passed. Most of their wounds had healed, but unknown to them, there were still other Nations, forgotten Nations, who continued to be tortured and experimented on.</p><p>All until one man, also forgotten, decided to rescue them and craft his revenge.</p><p>His actions cause the secrecy of the ‘Plan’ to crumble. Those who were involved are exposed. And as their punishment, they’re forced to work as pawns. Their ideals are again challenged—their humanity put to the test. Are they doing the right thing? Who can they trust? But most importantly:</p><p>Are they to blame?</p><p>(This fic is a sequel to "Are we humans?" Real life events will be followed until 2015, where they will be deviated from. Human and country names are used. Many characters will be in the story, but only the most important are tagged.)</p><p>paper copies unavailable-- I'm gonna release wdww awh and dfu all at the same time and then depart from this series for good. expected release date: september 2018 at the latest this is a promise</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> [editing progress](http://arewehumans.tumblr.com/progress)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> idk what I want to do with this. when i re-wrote awh, i cut out 20k.
> 
> that's low-key the goal here
> 
> the plot, in the end, won't change. if I cut something out it's because it was cringey and served no purpose lol. but yeah, i'm doing a full read-through again so rip here we go

_3\. April 2015_

“I’m so sorry, but…you have cancer.”

The room is dead silent.

“Cancer,” Prussia repeats, saying the word slowly.

The doctor nods, her face solemn. “Specifically, you have acute myeloid leukemia.”

“But there is a treatment plan, right?” Ilse, Prussia’s Nation Advisor, asks.

The doctor grabs her clipboard. “There is, especially since we caught it early. Currently, we’ve identified you being in stage two. This means—”

_Cancer…_

“Certain cells are…”

Prussia’s eyes are glassy, and he’s staring at the wall.

_I’m going to die._

“Listen to her,” Ilse mutters.

Prussia snaps back to reality. “Why? It doesn’t matter! No fucking treatment plan will do anything!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Ssh. It’s okay,” the doctor breathes. Prussia bites his lip and stares at the ground. The doctor continues calmly, “Here; why don’t I go? I’ll leave the clipboard on this counter, and you can read it yourselves, okay? I’ll be back in ten minutes to answer any questions.” With that, she exits the room.

The door shuts gently behind her.

Prussia feels like he’s going to vomit.

“Gilbert,” Ilse soothes, placing her hand on his thigh.

“I just—”

“We can get through this.”

“What, like with my colds? My allergies? Asthma!? God Ilse,  _this_ —this is a whole new animal!”

“…”

“My body wants me dead. Like, even if we treat this, something worse is going to happen next!”

She frowns. “What, so you’re just going to give up?”

Prussia clenches his fists. “I can’t—I can’t go through chemo. I can’t. Because if I do, everyone—they’ll find out I’m sick.”

“You’ve already lost a ton of weight and are bruising easily. Eventually, your friends are going to pick up on it regardless.”

Prussia feels tears welling up. “I can’t let them know.”

“Isn’t that a bit selfish?”

“I don’t want their pity.”

His vision is becoming blurry, and he blinks in an attempt to keep tears from falling.

“Then what do you want to do?” Ilse murmurs.

“I don’t want chemo,” Prussia chokes out. “I’ll just live with it, with this,” he nearly falters on the word, “ _cancer_ as long as I can take pain meds and stuff to make everyday life bearable.”

Ilse sighs. “Okay. If…this is what you want, I won’t fight you.”

She hands him a tissue, then reaches for the clipboard and puts on her glasses.

Prussia sniffs. “What are you doing?”

“We might as well read this.”

“…”

“There are eight stages of acute myeloid leukemia. You’re marked as having stage two. This means the maturation of the bone marrow cells is beyond the…” she pauses, trying to figure out how to pronounce the word, “pro-mye-lo-cyte stage?”

Prussia blinks, gripping his damp tissue. “The fuck does that mean?”

“Varying amounts of gra-nul-o-cyte maturation may be observed,” she continues. “Apparently.”

“Does it say how long I have?” Prussia mutters.

She shakes her head. “We’ll have to ask the doctor. It could be longer than normal, though, since you’re a Nation.”

“Am I really?” 

“You can still speak any language.”

He closes his eyes. “Thank God.”

When he opens them, he sees Ilse reading through more of the papers on the clipboard.

Nation advisors don’t normally stick around for twenty plus years.

Yet, here she is.

She’s stayed with him ever since she found him in the bathroom surrounded by a pool of blood and limbs. They formed a bond of sorts after that incident. So when Prussia asked her to keep it a secret from Germany…

She agreed.

As the years passed and Prussia got hit with more and more medical ailments, they kept those, too, a secret. And now they’ve become pros at keeping everything from Germany—making up excuses for Prussia’s doctor’s appointments, hiding his medicines…

It’s like they’re partners in crime, and it’s bizarre. Prussia knows Nations aren’t supposed to be friends with their advisors.

But when has he ever followed the rules?

He doesn’t know a lot about Ilse’s personal life—it’s probably better that way—but he knows her basic interests and hobbies, so it’s enough. And thankfully, she’s only in her late forties, so she won’t die anytime soon.

His phone vibrates.

Ilse looks up. “Who is it?”

Prussia grabs the phone out of his sweatshirt pocket and looks at the lock screen. “Just Ludwig. He says he won’t be home till late.”

There’s a knock on the door, and the doctor pokes her head in. “Is this a good time?”

Ilse nods. The doctor enters.

Prussia clenches his fists and stares at the ground. He suddenly feels so tired. Well, actually, he’s always tired. At first, he thought it was because his sleep schedule is erratic.

But now he knows it’s because of his leukemia.

“Did you read the pamphlet?” the doctor asks.

Ilse nods. “We did.”

“What do you and your son think?”

Oh right; that’s a thing they put down.

Ilse doesn’t bat an eye. “We want to know how long he has without treatment.”

“Without, I would say around five years.”

_Five years…_

It seems so long, yet at the same time, very short.

“But, again, you’re only in stage two, so if we start treatment options now, then your prognosis is pretty good,” the doctor continues.

Silence.

“We’ll need to talk about this with the rest of our family,” Ilse ends up saying. “We’ll schedule another appointment and get back to you.”

The doctor nods. “Okay. That seems like a good idea.”

She and Ilse shake hands. Prussia follows more reluctantly.

After checking out of the treatment center, they exit the building and stand on the sidewalk.

“Do you want me to come home with you?” Ilse murmurs. “I can stay with you until Ludwig comes back.”

Prussia shakes his head, trying not to shiver when a cool breeze blows through. “I just want to be alone.”

Ilse sighs and zips up her coat. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

His Berlin apartment is only a couple blocks away, yet it feels like it takes him forever to make it back. His legs are aching by the time he gets home, and he immediately downs multiple pain relievers. He then hides the bottles where he knows Germany won’t find them.

Prussia flops on the couch. He feels a headache coming on and wills it to go away, closing his eyes until he hears his phone vibrate.

He groans and looks at the lock screen.

> **Facebook** :
> 
>       [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst! 

_You can still poke someone on Facebook?_

He throws his iPhone to the side and closes his eyes, willing his churning anxiety to go away along with the headache.

_You have cancer._

The thought is sudden, and he clenches his fists, turning on the TV as background noise.

He drifts off listening to the news.

* * *

 

_“The Russian and American embassies in Amman, Jordan were the victims of bombing attacks here on the third of April, 2015. Though there have been no deaths reported, twenty people are missing—ten from each embassy. Data files were also stolen from both, and it is unclear who the attackers are, or what their motives might be. The information stolen is not being disclosed to the public. Officials are saying…”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel, so you know the drill (I hope.)
> 
> This fic takes place in 2015 with some flashbacks. The flashbacks and their time period will be based on real world events. Here, in ‘current times’ I’m going to be deviating away from such and making up my own, based on real historical events.
> 
> My plan is not to make a statement but to tell a story. I’ll be writing about real things from about as objective of a standpoint as I can. However, I am a white American girl, so tell me if I’m in the wrong.


	2. I. Juhaina

(۱۹۹۰/۰۸/۱٤)

_14 August 1990_

“We’re going to the beach.”

Juhaina looks up from the TV and blinks.

Her mother grins. “I have an outfit laid out for you on your bed. Your father and brother are packing the car.”

She turns off the TV. “But you said we weren’t—”

Her mother’s eyes soften. “Happy birthday.”

“Wait, we’re really going!?”

Her mother rolls her eyes. “Yes. Now go get dressed.”

Juhaina grins and runs to her room.

Her mother walks in after she throws on the light silk clothing. “Let me help you put it up,” she says, seeing Juhaina fiddle with her hair.

Once she’s finished, Juhaina tries to escape outside, but her mother catches her.

“I need to put sunscreen on your face.”

Juhaina grimaces.

Her mother laughs. “Come on.”

The sunscreen is wet and sticky, but none of that matters when she runs outside to help her dad and brother pack. They’re pretty much finished, but she still insists on putting the last thing in the trunk. She then jumps into the backseat next to her brother as her parents climb into the front.

After they debate what route is the best to take, Juhaina’s dad pulls out of their driveway, and she watches their townhouse become smaller and smaller as they drive further into Gaza City.

She loves driving through the city. Though her dad hates the traffic and the swarms of people, Juhaina loves its excitement and life. She keeps her face glued to the window as they weave around everyone.

Thirty minutes into the drive, however, she has to pee.

“Mom,” she whines.

“Juhaina, we’re almost there. Can’t you hold it?”

“No!”

Her mother sighs.

“Kulthum, it’s fine,” her father says. “Jump out here and use the restroom in that restaurant. We’re only two blocks away from the beach, so you can just walk there once you’re done. Samir and I will keep driving and start unloading the car once we arrive.”

Her mother rubs her temples. “Fine. Come on, Juhaina.”

Juhaina jumps out onto the sidewalk and impatiently waits for her mother so they can enter the restaurant. After her mother speaks to the hostess, Juhaina whining in the background, they walk to the restroom. It’s just a single stall, but they enter together.

When Juhaina’s done relieving herself, she washes her hands, then gets distracted by her own reflection.

“Finished?” her mother asks.

The lights flicker.

“I think my ponytail is falling out,” Juhaina mumbles.

Her mother walks over to fix it.

“Hey, don’t move around so much.”

“ _Ow_.”

“Oh, come on—”

An explosion.

The power cuts out as the building shakes. Juhaina falls to the ground, and her mother instantly shields her. Someone screams. Something shatters. Juhaina starts shaking.

Another explosion.

Her heart is beating rapidly.

“ _Mom_.”

“Ssh.”

Eventually, it’s silent.

Juhaina’s ears are ringing. She and her mother wait a minute, then cautiously stand up.

“Are you okay?” her mother whispers.

Juhaina feels dazed as she nods, and she almost doesn’t realize her mother is guiding her out of the bathroom.

There are people crouched in the hallway, all looking scared.

“Mom, what—”

“Ssh.”

When they reach the main part of the restaurant, all of the windows are shattered. People are looking out them, pointing.

Juhaina clenches her mother’s hand just as she speaks.

“Where did the missile hit?”

… _Missile?_

A pale-faced man closes his eyes. “The beach. They targeted the beach.”

“The beach?” her mother repeats.

The man nods.

Juhaina’s head is spinning. _Who’s attacking—_

Her mother falls to the ground.

“Mom?!”

She starts crying.

Juhaina is frozen, baffled, and near tears herself.

“Poor soul must’ve known someone there,” some old man whispers.

_Wait, Samir and Dad—_

“Well, there’s no way they lived through that.”

Juhaina’s legs give out.

* * *

 

(۱۹۹۰/۰۸/۲۱)

_21 August 1990_

It’s been a week.

Her mother hasn’t spoken since; hasn’t uttered a sound. Instead, she’s been cooped up in her room, staring at the wall, only getting up to use the toilet.

Juhaina’s been forced to look after herself, and she has no idea what she’s doing.

Her brother and father are dead.

They’re both  _dead._

Juhaina stares at a family photo hanging in the kitchen.

_“Well, there’s no way they lived through that.”_

She glances at her stale piece of bread, then attempts to force it down.

_You need to eat._

_M-Mom will get angry if you don’t._

But she knows she’s kidding herself.

Her mother’s pretty much dead at this point, too.

* * *

  

(۱۹۹۰/۰۸/۲۲)

_22 August 1990_

Somehow, the next day, it’s like a switch flips in her mother’s brain.

Suddenly, she’s awake. Suddenly, she’s moving.

And now she’s consumed with the thought of revenge.

They’re at the kitchen table. The only food they have to eat is the stale bread Juhaina bought yesterday.

She stares at the table, her vision blurring.

Her uncle called yesterday. He promised to drop by with some real food, and she’s been fantasizing about it ever since. He also hinted that he would talk some sense into her mother, but.

Her uncle lives in Jordan, so the trip is going to take days or even weeks.

_But once he gets here everything will—_

“Those Israelis need to die,” her mother suddenly seethes.

Juhaina eyes snap up from the table. Her mother seems livid.

She swallows. “But the Quran says—”

“It doesn’t matter!”

Juhaina flinches.

“Those Israelis need to die,” her mother repeats calmly. “They took everything from us, and they think I’ll stand by idly?” She stands up and pushes the table back.

“ _Mom_.”

Her mother walks away.

Juhaina is left alone.

She sits there, frozen, and listens as her mother opens the front door and leaves the house.

It’s quiet.

Juhaina scrambles upstairs to what used to be her parent’s room and frantically lifts up the mattress.

The fake passports her uncle gave them are still there.

_Don’t take them. What are you doing? Mom will—_

_But I need them._

_What, are you going to leave Palestine?! Where would you go!?_

Blinking back tears, she’s about to run out when something in her mind snaps. She snatches the passports and sprints back to her room, stuffing them in her pillowcase.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but.

She’s afraid of her mother.

Her uncle gave her parents these passports, spouting ideas of how there’s a better life outside of Palestine, and Juhaina wants so desperately to trust him. These passports could be her means of going with him and having everything be okay again.

_Right?_

She starts crying.

* * *

 

Her mother doesn’t come home that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaza City is in Palestine


	3. Talks in the Pacific

_2015_   _년_   _04_   _월_   _11_   _일_

It’s a cool day, and the heat is blasting.

South Korea feels like he’s going to suffocate.

He tugs at his collar and fidgets; anything to keep him awake.

Next to him, America is doing worse. His head’s bobbing up and down, and he looks as if he’s fighting to keep his eyes open. Japan, meanwhile, is on America’s other side. He and South Korea make eye contact, then kick his chair at the same time.

He jumps upright. From across the room, Russia and China give them questioning glances.

Their officials either don’t notice what just happened or don’t care. They’re too engaged in their discussion. Mainly it’s about Russia and China’s opposition to a US missile-defense system in South Korea, but ways to deter North Korean missile launches have also been mentioned.

South Korea doesn’t care about these talks. He knows he should, but he’s tired and hungry. It’s 1 PM, and he just wants lunch.

Also hearing anything about North Korea makes his stomach churn, which is unfortunate because he hears about it a lot.

He sighs and tries to pay attention. They’re discussing missile deterrence again, saying something about preparing for the round of talks with Pyongyang.

These talks are once a year, and they’re awful. In any other normal meeting, South Korea’s not expected to do anything or pay attention. But no, at these talks with Pyongyang it’s just the Nations.

So he has to do shit.

On the border between the North and the South, there’s a demilitarization zone where conference rooms are located. That’s where he, America, Japan, Russia, and China go to discuss matters with North Korea.

Every year, South Korea is expected to memorize at least twenty documents for this event. And it’s awful. The entire thing is awful. The meeting drags on forever, sitting in the same room as North Korea gives him a massive headache, and just looking at the kid makes him angry.

Well, he’s not really a ‘kid’ anymore. North Korea is in his late teens, probably. He also never shows an ounce of emotion on his face, keeps his voice monotone, and sits as still as a board.

He’s basically the polar opposite of South Korea.

“We’ll now take a lunch break,” a Chinese official says since they’re the hosts of the meeting.

_Thank God._

South Korea stands up, trying to get feeling back in his legs. He hopes they can leave to get lunch elsewhere. The food they usually provide at these types of meetings is shit, and he knows there are plenty of restaurants in Beijing.

His prayers are answered.

“You five can go elsewhere,” a Chinese official says, not even looking at them. “Be back here in an hour.”

They all nod and walk out of the building. It isn’t spectacular, just a standard office complex meant to blend in with their surroundings.

“What restaurants are around here?” Russia asks as America yawns.

China contemplates. “A lot, but I’m trying to think of a place that everyone would like.”

South Korea looks around at all the businessmen on their lunch breaks.

Finally, China shrugs. “There’s a noodle restaurant a couple of blocks from here.”

No one argues.

It then comes to South Korea’s attention that he’s fifth wheeling, and he tries not to let it get to him. It’s not like America and Japan are big on the PDA anyway. They can get caught up in each other, but that’s about the worst of it.

Russia and China on the other hand…

Well, it’s not like they can even do anything physically affectionate in public—not with the anti-gay laws in Russia and the non-acceptance of LGBT individuals in China.

South Korea’s pretty sure their countries wouldn’t be thrilled with the notion of the two of them fucking either.

He ends up behind China as they keep walking and frowns when the realization that he was in love with him smacks him in the face.

The idea seems so foreign now. He still likes him, of course, but the romantic feelings have since vanished.

His eyes move to Russia. He used to despise him, couldn’t even stand talking to him, and the feeling was mutual for a long period of time. But now even they’re neutral towards each other because it makes China happy.

Japan is another person he used to hate. Now they’ve reached an understanding of sorts. They’re not the best of friends; he’s not even sure if they’re friends to begin with, but they’re civil with each other for the sake of others.

And every now and then, they’ll cooperate, like to kick America’s chair when he’s falling asleep.

South Korea decides to bring that up. “Are you still jetlagged?” he asks in Mandarin since they’re out in public.

America frowns. “No, not really,” he responds in the same language. “The meeting was just that boring.”

“And the heat didn’t help,” Japan murmurs.

“Yeah. Oh my God, it was like a sauna in there.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Russia mutters.

America flips him off.

They arrive at the tiny noodle restaurant. There are booths to the side, a bar where most of the lunch crowd is seated, and a TV on the wall, showing the news. They head to the small booths. To his dismay, South Korea realizes he’ll have to squeeze next to one of the couples.

He opts for sitting next to America.

A waitress walks over, only pausing when she sees Russia and America.

“Do they need English menus?” she asks in Mandarin.

China shakes his head.

Russia grimaces. “What, if you’re white, they assume you speak English?” he says after she’s left.

“More tourists speak English,” China murmurs, picking up his menu.

South Korea grabs one as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices some people enter the shop and sit down that look completely out of place.

“Everything here is to share,” China says. South Korea looks away from the men. “Unless you’re ordering from the bar. So I guess we can all decide on two meals.”

Japan points one out to America, and America snorts. “I can’t eat that. It’s too spicy.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Kiku, trust me. I’ll take one bite and start crying.”

“What dish are you referring to?” Russia asks.

America points it out.

“That’s not spicy.”

“Shut up.” He thrusts the menu in South Korea’s face. “Is this spicy?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

America garbles out a response, and South Korea rolls his eyes and looks at the TV. There are subtitles, so he can tell it’s about the Jordan Bombings.

He glances at America and Russia as they argue about what dish to order. When embassies are attacked, Nations are affected because it’s considered that country’s property. However, the two don’t look ill at all.

_It’s probably because there were no casualties, just missing people._

People missing whom, for whatever reason, both governments seem reluctant to release any information about.

China orders for them when their waitress comes back. They’re then left alone.

South Korea marvels at this entire situation. Twenty years ago, he would have laughed at anyone who said he would one day be allowed to go to a random restaurant with Russia and China.

But here they are.

Though they are probably being trailed. Those weird men look very uncomfortable.

China’s phone vibrates. He looks at it and puts it down, but it vibrates again.

He silences it.

“Who’s that?” Russia asks.

“Mei. She just arrived at our townhouse with Kha Loung and Chiu, and she let me know by sending multiple pages of emojis.”

“I don’t understand emojis. I feel like a jaded old man.”

China laughs. “That’s because you are.”

“You’re better than Francis at least,” America mutters into his teacup. “He still has a flip phone. And his text is like, old man-sized.”

Their waitress places a napkin dispenser on their table.

“We’re being trailed,” Russia mutters when she’s gone.

China sighs. “I noticed too.”

South Korea fidgets; then watches as America leans over and whispers something to Japan, who covers his mouth to suppress what sounds like a giggle.

He really wishes the booth were bigger.

He tries to edge away from America ever so slightly, but in the process, he ends up kicking Russia’s leg.

Russia glares at him.

“We can switch spots,” South Korea deadpans. America and Japan are too distracted to hear him.

Russia glances at China, then glares at South Korea even more.

China tells them to relax just as their waitress comes over with their noodles.

They grab their servings and eat in silence. After a bit, though, South Korea can’t help but say to America, “I at least have to see you _try_ to eat the spicy dish.”

“I’ll die if I do.”

“It’s not that bad,” Russia says, smirking.

Japan pushes his bowl towards America, and he stares at it like it’s poisoned. He then nervously uses his chopsticks to grab a bit and place it in his mouth.

He swallows.

“Well?” South Korea asks.

America grabs his tea and downs it.

Russia starts laughing. “Oh my God, you loser.”

“I need more,” America pants. Japan rolls his eyes and shoves his cup towards him.

Soon after, they finish up and pay.

“Now what?” China asks when they’re outside. “We still have forty-five minutes to do whatever.”

“I don’t want to go back yet,” South Korea mutters.

“Me either.” China pauses. “You know, my townhouse is nearby. Why don’t we pay a visit?”

It doesn’t take long to arrive, even with the other men blatantly following them.

Hong Kong gets startled when they open the door.

“The hell are you doing here?”

“This is my house,” China deadpans, taking off his shoes.

Hong Kong steps away from the closet he was putting coats in. “Not you, obviously.”

“We’re on lunch break for a meeting,” America says, placing his shoes in the corner.

After kicking off his own, South Korea runs over and slings his arm around Hong Kong’s shoulders. “How’re you doing, Kha Loung?”

He blushes. “Don’t touch me.”

“Nice to see you too!”

Before South Korea can respond, Taiwan runs down the stairs. “This is a surprise! Hi!”

They move out of the hallway and into the kitchen. China looks around at the mess. “Were you cooking?”

Taiwan nods. “Yeah, but we’re out of like, everything. What do you eat when we’re not here? I swear to God, it was barren.”

China shrugs. “I go out.”

Taiwan rolls her eyes. “Anyway, Chiu went to get some groceries.” She then turns to America. “Did you set up that…”

South Korea becomes distracted when he sees China and Russia head upstairs. He then forces himself to look away and nudges Hong Kong as Taiwan, America, and Japan talk about God knows what.

“Must be exciting, living with three other people.”

Hong Kong picks at a hangnail. “Not really. I’m used to it.”

“What’s worse, here or the U—”

“The UK,” Hong Kong rushes out. “Fuck the UK. I never want to see Scotland’s face again. I never want to hear him, Wales, or England breathe.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, I hit a nerve.”

Japan says something that America laughs at. Taiwan smacks his arm.

“I like it better here in China,” Hong Kong mumbles. “But God only knows what will happen in 2047 when there’s the next hand-over.”

South Korea leans against the wall, not quite knowing how to comfort him. Though they’ve gotten closer in the past decades, usually most conversations they have are through texting nothing but Internet jokes. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’re talking about my sovereignty here.”

“You have a little over thirty years; worry about it then.”

Hong Kong frowns, but South Korea looks out the window and misses it.

When he glances back, he notices Hong Kong staring at Taiwan and grins like a shark, trying to ignore how his stomach just twisted into a weird knot for a second. “You told me you _didn’t_ have a crush on her.”

Hong Kong’s head snaps towards him. His face is red. “I don’t!”

“ _Sure_.”

He plays with his sleeve.

“Come on. Don’t be an oblivious idiot like Kiku was with Alfred and wait twenty years to make a move. We both know how painful that was.”

Hong Kong shoves him. “ _You_ made it painful. God, that one meeting in Taiwan where we went to the fishing market was awful.”

“Fishing market?” Taiwan pipes up, joining their conversation.

South Korea absentmindedly rubs the area Hong Kong touched. “How clear are your childhood memories?”

“Pretty clear; why?”

South Korea smirks. “We were reminiscing about the time we were all in Taipei during the first Strait Crisis.”

“Oh God, is that when I dragged you to the fishing market? I was so weird, sorry.”

South Korea smiles. “Aw, you were cute.”

Taiwan turns even redder. “Didn’t I make you and Kiku go with me to look at the stalls?”

“Yeah,” Japan mutters. “And then you pulled a wallet from somewhere out of your dress and bought oysters from a fisherman.”

Taiwan covers her face. “By far the _worst_ childhood memory I have, though, is when I met you, Alfred, Arthur, and Kha Loung for the first time. I remember that Kha Loung said the word ‘fuck,’ and I had the audacity to walk up to him and ask what it meant.”

Hong Kong coughs. “In your defense, I shouldn’t have been cursing.”

“And then I forced you to play pretend with me!”

“It was better than standing near England.”

Macau walks inside and instantly looks confused. “Why… are there so many people here?”

China and Russia come down the stairs. “We’re on lunch break from a meeting.”

“Ah.” He takes off his shoes and sets the bags of food down on the kitchen counter.

Macau has existed since 1887 when the island became an official Portuguese colony, but South Korea still doesn’t really know him. They’ve never seen each other much. Up until recently, Macau was always in Portugal. It’s only been since 1999 that China regained sovereignty over the island—two years after Hong Kong’s was transferred—and South Korea has only had sparse interactions with him since.

Macau walks past him and turns on the TV. He then plops down on the couch and ignores everyone.

“We should get going soon,” China says, checking his phone.

Taiwan looks up from the food Macau brought. “Hey, wait! You never responded to my texts!”

China pockets his phone. “Do I have to?”

“Yes!”

“Respond to her damn texts,” Hong Kong mutters at the same time.

“You do send nothing but emojis and stickers. It’s a bit bothersome,” Macau says from the couch.

Taiwan glares. “Hey—”

“We should go,” China says again as they start to argue in the background.

Taiwan stops bickering with Macau and sprints towards them just as they’re about ready to leave.

“Shit, wait! I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

They all stop. South Korea briefly makes eye contact with Hong Kong from across the room, who cracks a smile and rolls his eyes.

Taiwan holds up her phone and shows them a picture of a dress. South Korea recognizes it and nearly groans.

“What colors do you see?” she asks earnestly.

“Mei, this is two months old,” America says, glaring at it.

“I just saw it yesterday!”

“What do you mean, ‘what colors?’” Russia asks, sounding baffled. “It’s blue and black.”

China scrunches up his eyebrows. “It’s white and gold.”

“It’s actually blue and black,” America says, sighing. “It’s an optical illusion. It’s okay; I see white and gold too.”

Japan laughs. “You showed me this before. You still can’t see the correct colors?”

America nearly pouts. “No.” 

“It’s white and gold!” Hong Kong yells.

“No, it’s not!” Taiwan argues.

China rolls his eyes and walks out the door. The others wave goodbye and follow him.

“I swear, the reason that house isn’t bugged is because no one wants to listen to the conversations that go on in it,” he then mutters. South Korea looks around to see if the strange men are nearby. Thankfully, they’re not.

“It’s not bugged?” Russia asks, sounding surprised.

China shakes his head. “We’ve checked.”

“Wait, is _your_ house bugged?” America asks.

Russia looks away. 

It’s moments like this South Korea remembers that though many things have changed since the Cold War,

some haven’t.

* * *

 

The rest of the meeting is dull.

Finally, at 5 PM they finish. There’s mention of the upcoming Nation UN meeting in a week, and then they all head their separate ways.

His flight back to Seoul isn’t long, only two hours. However, there’s an hour time difference between South Korea and China, so he doesn’t get back to his apartment until 8:30 PM.

He throws off his suit and changes into sweats, then glances at the papers they want him to look over before the UN meeting. He quickly loses interest, though. The only thing that looks vaguely exciting is that there will be a brief discussion on the Jordan bombings.

He sighs and flops down on his couch, the news immediately coming on when he turns on the TV. He groans, bringing up the guide to see what else is playing.

He doesn’t pay attention as the reporter drones on in the background.

* * *

 

 _“There’s been a leak from both the American and Russian embassies in Jordan. The information involves military base locations for both countries. It’s_   _unclear who’s done this and what threat it may pose…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chiu = given name for Macau (full name: Mang Chiu or 孟超. [edit: Thanks melodytran!!] 
> 
> Also just to continue about Chinese names—people rarely call each other by their given names but i dont want to butcher anything
> 
> *Hong Kong’s handovers -- http://hk-magazine.com/article/12707/end-hong-kong
> 
> ‘The dress’ happened in February 2015. I see white and gold. Like America, I’ve tried everything and cannot see blue and black


	4. II. Kazimir

(13 июня 1944 года)

 _13 June 1944_  

“My father fucked a Polish woman.” He laughs, but it sounds extremely forced.

The American man stares at him.

Kazimir starts to ramble. “So I—He took her to Russia when she found out she was pregnant, and I’ve lived there my entire life. But in private she would speak to me in Polish, so.” He almost says more but forces himself to stop talking.

The American man nods. “My parents are both first-generation immigrants and spoke it around the house. That’s why I know it.”

The British men off to the side laugh, and Kazimir bites his lip, hating his inability to understand English. The fact that he’s talking to this American man feels surreal.

“Do a lot of Americans speak Polish?” he blurts out. He doesn’t know what’s overcome him. Normally, he’s able to keep himself composed; to act dignified and arrogant, just like his father taught him. But ever since he started talking to this man, ever since the man said he spoke Polish, Kazimir’s had no filter.

The man laughs. “No. And second-generation Americans rarely speak anything other than English. It’s taboo to speak your native language.”

“Oh.” Kazimir pauses. “I guess a lot of Russians only speak Russian too.” Polish is considered a dirty language. Kazimir is considered dirty.

The man nods again, taking out a cigarette. Kazimir watches as he lights it and breathes in.

The man then blinks. “Oh, I never introduced myself. My name is Frank. Or Frank Radzinski. How do you Russians deal with that again? Do you call each other by your first names?”

Kazimir fidgets. “Yeah, but it depends. Uh, we have a formal version, a colloquial version, and a diminutive form. They’re all like, nicknames I guess that you use in different contexts.”

“Well shit.”

“Don’t worry about it; you’re American. Just call me by my first name.”

They then say at the same time:

“Which is Kazimir, by the way.”

“How old are you?”

They blink. Frank takes another drag of his cigarette. “So, Kazimir.” His pronunciation is a bit off, but Kazimir is too tired and embarrassed to correct him. “Just Kazimir, right? You sure you don’t want me to add anything onto it?”

“Kazimir is fine…”

“Alright. How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he lies easily, just as he’s been trained to do.

Frank frowns. “You don’t look nineteen.”

“I’m nineteen.”

He sighs.

Kazimir looks around, biting his lip. There’s no one in the hall but them and the British men.

“Fine. I’m sixteen.”

Frank chokes on his spit. “Sixteen!?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“You’re just—you’re just a fucking kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Kazimir growls.

Frank ignores him. “Sixteen…”

Kazimir tries to make himself bigger. “Well, how old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

_Oh._

“It’s only a five-year difference…”

Frank doesn’t respond and instead hands him a cigarette. Kazimir takes it, and they smoke in silence for a bit.

After a couple of minutes, Frank speaks again.

“How’d you get roped into this?”

Kazimir breathes out smoke. “What, this shitty job?”

Frank nods. “Yeah, this job, it’s like we’re…” He frowns. “I don’t know the Polish word. Shit. It’s—” He says something in English that Kazimir can’t understand.

“I told you I don’t know English.”

“I know; crap—uh, a person who watches and takes care of children.”

“Babysitter?”

“Yes! Thank you. This job is like we’re goddamn babysitters.”

Kazimir never thought of it that way, but it seems accurate. “That’s a simple way to put things.”

“But it’s true. We don’t do anything but watch them and record their actions. Like, 7:45 AM, America took a shit.”

Kazimir cracks a smile, playing along. “8:00 AM, Russia stared at the wall for five minutes, blinking a total of three times.”

“8:15 AM, America sneezed.”

“8:30 AM, Russia’s left arm twitched.”

They look at each other and start laughing. God, Kazimir hasn’t acted this carefree in a long time.

Frank throws his cigarette to the ground and grinds it with his foot. “I’ll ask again. How did you, a sixteen-year-old, end up with this job?”

Kazimir sighs, feeling his mood fall. “My father.”

Frank blinks.

“He’s an important government official, and he threw me into this job. It’s the perfect way to get me out of his hair, I guess.” _And now hopefully I’ll never have to see him again._

“…”

“What about you?”

Frank grimaces. “I was scouted from my University in DC because they said I was an ‘upstanding citizen’ who ‘fit the mold they were looking for.’ They roped me into this job when I couldn’t refuse.” Frank laughs. It sounds bitter. “I haven’t seen my family since.”

“Me either.” Not that he’s sad about it. His dad’s an asshole, and his mother has been dead for years.

A few moments pass. Kazimir then happens to look at the clock and notices that it’s been twenty minutes. “Shit, we have to check in on—”

“They aren’t doing anything in there. Don’t worry about it.”

Kazimir frowns.

Frank leans against the wall. “It’s America, Russia, and England. I can assure you they aren’t doing anything interesting. The room’s quiet, anyway.”

“Are we really going to be here in London for a month? It seems pointless.”

“Our jobs are pointless.”

“These stupid reports we have to do are going to take forever.”

“Make shit up. Who cares?”

Kazimir blinks.

“They’re just Nations. Their behavior is predictable. They act according to their country alliances, and they’re like obedient dogs if you give them the right command. Don’t worry about it. Trust me, I’ve been a Nation Advisor for about a year now, and so far America has done nothing but listen to orders.”

Kazimir nods, feeling calmer but still unsure. He’s only been a Nation Advisor for about a month, and this is the first time he’s watching Russia without anyone else’s supervision.

_But Frank seems confident and experienced. Russia is just a Nation. If I give him the right orders, nothing will happen. Nations are obedient. Nations are predictable._

…

Why did they have to be wrong?

* * *

 

(7 июль 1944 года)

 _7 July 1944_  

“…That doesn’t make any sense,” Kazimir eventually says.

His superior’s expression doesn’t waver. “They told the truth. We found France’s corpse at the exact coordinates they provided.”

Next to him, Russia stiffens.

Kazimir’s head is spinning. “But that means Prussia and Spain would have actively defied their governments.”

His superior nods. “So it would seem.”

Kazimir has no response. He keeps his expression shuttered, externally trying to maintain a cool-headed façade—the illusion of an older, more seasoned Nation Advisor.

Internally, he’s just a sixteen-year-old kid having a mental breakdown.

“The Italian Nation Avatars are being flown to London,” his superior continues. “Tomorrow, you’ll sit in on their questioning session to record information.”

Kazimir swallows and nods. His mouth is dry.

“And then in a week you’ll be returning to Moscow, so make apt preparations.”

He nods again, feeling like an idiot.

“Okay. That’s all,” his superior says. He then walks away, leaving Kazimir and Russia standing out in the hallway.

They head back in silence to a large dining room, Kazimir sneaking glances at Russia along the way.

_He could just…turn against the government at any moment._

_He could snap and kill me in an instant._

Kazimir feels like he’s going to vomit when they get back. The other Nations and their advisors have already arrived, and Kazimir quickly spots Frank and makes a beeline for him. He haphazardly registers Russia sitting down next to China, sitting down really uncomfortably close to China, but he doesn’t have the energy to think about it.

“I assume you were given more or less the same spiel as I was,” Frank mutters in Polish when Kazimir’s within earshot.

“About sitting in on an interrogation?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“My superior called it a ‘questioning session.’”

“How polite of him.”

Kazimir fidgets. He feels a little better, but not by much. He gnaws on his lip, and Frank sighs, handing him a cigarette. “You need to stop doing that.”

Kazimir takes the cigarette and lowers his eyes. Frank lights it for him, and he breathes in, trying to calm himself down.

_Relax. Everything will work out._

“I guess we’re going to be separated soon, huh,” Frank says.

Kazimir nearly chokes.

_Oh. Right._

He’s hit with a wave of emotions that he can’t decipher. He tries to cover them up. “I guess we will.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“You know I can tell when you’re acting.”

Kazimir stares at the ground. For whatever goddamn reason he’s shaking.

Frank sighs. “I’m going to miss you, kid.”

His head snaps up.

“Remember, your first priority is to take care of yourself. Screw these Nations. Do what you need to do to remain safe.”

Kazimir nods. The British advisors mumble something to each other. The two Chinese ones look vaguely like they want to hang themselves.

“And cheer up,” Frank says, nudging him. “It’s not like this day can get any worse.”

* * *

 

The day gets worse.

The mood takes a nosedive when the other UK Nation Avatars return since Scotland won’t shut up.

Kazimir can’t understand him, and even he’s getting annoyed.

If everything were normal, they’d be allowed to leave the dining room and wander wherever, as long as it was still within the confines of the palace.

But not today.

No, instead, they all have to sit here as their officials discuss matters somewhere else.

Kazimir really wishes he knew what Scotland was going on about. From the semi-English lessons Frank has given him, he can recognize about one word per minute.

These consist of ‘I,’ ‘fuck,’ and ‘shit.’

The only ones really responding to Scotland are Wales and Northern Ireland, but even they look fed up with him, Northern Ireland especially, who makes Kazimir feel uncomfortable since he appears even younger than him.

He shifts his weight. He’s leaning up against the wall next to Frank, planner in hand. He’s supposed to be taking notes on the current situation but doesn’t really know what he should jot down.

_1 PM: There’s a conversation going on between Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. I can’t understand anything. Scotland seems to be dominating the conversation. Everyone is pissed off._

“You aren’t missing much by not knowing English,” Frank mumbles in Polish.

“He’s said the word _fuck_ at least five times now.”

“Really? I’ve counted more than that.”

“His accent’s making it hard for me to pick them out.”

Frank starts a tally. Five minutes later he has 21 ‘fucks’ recorded.

“What’s he even talking about?” Kazimir mutters.

“Nonsense. I think it’s his way of de-stressing.”

“Well, it’s an annoying one.”

Russia snaps before Frank can respond.

“God, shut up!”

Scotland says something.

“I don’t give a damn!”

Kazimir feels light-headed as Scotland sneers, nodding his head at China.

Russia’s eyes turn red.

Kazimir has heard about Nation’s eyes doing this but has never witnessed it before.

And it’s terrifying.

Scotland looks terrified.

Kazimir _is_ terrified.

China says something and tries to calm Russia down, but Scotland spits another comment that makes everything worse. Russia lunges for him. He suddenly has Scotland in a chokehold. Scotland’s face is turning blue. He—

He stops moving.

Russia releases his neck, and the body drops to the ground with a thud.

It’s Wales who jerks himself out of his trance first. He grabs Scotland’s body as Northern Ireland trails him. Kazimir can feel his heart pounding in his throat. The two don’t say anything, and Wales thrusts open the door, dragging Scotland down the hallway.

England chases them.

The two British Nation Advisors, meanwhile, sprint out of the room. The Chinese ones follow them, except they head in a separate direction. Kazimir doesn’t know where. The way they’re going leads to a dead—

Frank grabs Kazimir’s shoulder, and he realizes he’s shaking. China is now walking over to Russia, who’s been standing motionless. Before he does anything, though, Frank drags Kazimir away.

“Don’t we need to record what’s happening?” Kazimir chokes out.

Frank continues to pull him. They eventually end up in the courtyard.

“Frank?” Kazimir asks again, his voice cracking.

Frank moves away, then crouches down and places his head in-between his legs. He attempts to chuckle, but it just sounds like he’s gasping for air.

“Frank?” Kazimir repeats, rushing over.

He shakes his head.

A couple of minutes later, he takes a deep breath and sits up. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a Nation with red eyes.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone die,” Kazimir responds, feeling numb.

“Well, aren’t we having a wonderful day.”

* * *

 

Kazimir expects Russia to be punished. If not by the Russian officials, then at least by the British ones.

But he’s not.

They have more important shit to worry about. 

* * *

 

(8 июль 1944 года)

 _8 July 1944_  

The two Italian Nation Avatars look like hollowed out versions of themselves.

The French Nation Avatar looks like a corpse.

Neither the Nations nor their advisors are expecting their officials to parade France into the dining room after breakfast, but that’s exactly what happens.

The other Nations start to lose control of their emotions, but Kazimir doesn’t stick around to see what happens.

Instead, Frank guides him out of the room, and they hide in the courtyard.

He’s quickly learning that Frank can’t handle stressful situations.

* * *

 

The interrogation is awful. Everything is awful.

Scotland’s alive again, and he’s said the word ‘fuck’ twelve times now. 

* * *

 

(12 июль 1944 года)

 _12 July 1944_  

“It’s been fun, Kazimir,” Frank says. He’s finally gotten the pronunciation of his name right.

Kazimir nods, feeling like a pathetic kid as he chokes back tears.

Frank clasps his shoulder. “Remember, take care of yourself.” His expression is soft. “And fuck those Nation Avatars.”

Kazimir wants to speak, but his throat seizes up, so he nods instead.

“We’ll see each other in the future.”

“That better be a promise,” he forces out.

Frank smiles, and Kazimir feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Something’s wrong. Something is— 

* * *

 

(13 июль 1944 года)

 _13 July 1944_  

Kazimir realizes he’s fallen in love with Frank.

* * *

 

[pictured: frank]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (image commissioned from vicious-mongrel.tumblr.com)


	5. Everything Comes Crashing Down

_17\. April 2015_

“Come on; go out with us.”

“I’d rather not.”

“So what, you’re going to spend all night in this hotel room?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Ludwig.”

“Honestly, I’m good. Go have fun with Roderich and Liz.”

Prussia runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, fine.”

They stare at each other.

“Are you sure?” he repeats.

Germany just groans and turns on the TV.

Prussia glances at his lock screen when he’s about to leave the hotel room, seeing that he has four new messages.

> **iMessage** :
> 
>            [jetzt]
> 
> > **Liz** : We’re meeting at my hotel

 

> **WhatsApp** :
> 
>            [vor 11 min.]
> 
> > **Antonio** : I just got a 40 min voicemail from Francis that’s nothing but heavy breathing

 

> **Messenger** :
> 
>            [vor 15 min.]
> 
> > **Alfred** : did yong-soo send you that fucked up picture?

 

> **Messenger** :
> 
>            [vor 16 min.]
> 
> Yong-Soo hat ein Foto gesendet! 

Prussia rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone back into his pants pocket.

* * *

 

The Swiss hotel he and Germany are at is, thankfully, nice enough that cabs are out front.

Prussia sees Hungary waiting outside when they pull up to the curb.

She smiles after he gets out. “One of these days, we’ll stay in the same hotel.”

“Tell that to the people who book them for us in the first place.”

She rolls her eyes. “What time did you tell Roderich to be here?”

“6:30.”

“Well, it’s 7:00 now, so he should arrive soon.”

“God, I swear he’s the slowest person in the universe.” Prussia jams his phone into his pocket. “What even takes him so long? What’s there to do?”

“Makeup. Hair.”

“Well, I’m not a priss like you guys, so I wouldn’t know—”

Hungary punches his arm, then immediately looks away after another cab pulls up.

Prussia takes the opportunity to wince.

She didn’t even hit him that hard, but fuck. He rolls back his shirtsleeve to check his arm.

It’s already bruising.

Austria steps out of the cab to hug Hungary just as Prussia yanks down his shirtsleeve.

“Hey, Specs,” he attempts to say nonchalantly.

Austria rolls his eyes. “Hi. This driver will take us to our restaurant.”

As Prussia squashes himself into the middle seat, Austria remarks, “I suppose you being alone means Ludwig didn’t want to come?”

“He’d rather sit by himself in the hotel room all night.”

“Understandable.”

Hungary climbs in and closes the door, and the cab sets off. She and Austria then fall into a comfortable silence.

Prussia, meanwhile, quickly feels an immense amount of discomfort.

He grits his teeth and tries to distract himself by taking out his phone, not quite knowing what to do.

He then remembers the photo South Korea sent.

Austria and Hungary look over his shoulders.

“What _is_ that?” Austria asks.

Prussia quickly puts his phone away. “Uh.”

“Was that a—”

“So, how’s your day been?”

* * *

 

The place they arrive at is fancy.

When Hungary and Austria get distracted by their menus, Prussia checks his arm again.

The bruise is bigger.

“Gilbert?” Hungary asks.

He yanks down his shirtsleeve. “Yeah?”

She peers over her menu. “Do you want to order a bottle of wine?”

He’s not supposed to drink because of his pain medication.

“Sure.” 

* * *

 

Prussia’s head is spinning.

Everything is hard to comprehend, and he knows he’s spewing nonsense.

“He’s never been a light drinker,” Austria mutters while gripping onto his one side.

Hungary, holding the other, just sighs in response.

_They know something’s wrong with me, but they’re not sure what._

_I have to act like everything’s okay._

_I’m the master of deception._

“This weather is great!” he says. He then trips over his own foot.

Austria and Hungary hoist him up. Prussia attempts to get his balance but nearly falls again.

“We can’t keep going,” Hungary says in frustration.

Austria frowns. “But there are no cabs around here.”

“Can’t we use Uber or something?”

“It’s banned in Geneva.”

Hungary groans, throwing her hands up, and Prussia becomes off-balanced and nearly faceplants the ground.

“Shit, are you okay?” she asks, stooping over him.

Prussia’s world is spinning, and he feels nauseous. He gives her a thumbs up.

Austria crouches next to him, touching his face. His fingers graze tenderly over Prussia’s features, leaving his skin tingly.

He pulls away. “He seems fine.”

“Here, I’ll just carry him until we find a cab.”

“Elizabeta, there’s nothing around here.”

“Some could be right around the corner. Your sense of direction is shit, so I don’t trust your judgment.”

Prussia has a moment of clarity. “Ludwig.”

Hungary scrunches up her eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“He’s at the hotel. There are cabs there. Call him.”

Hungary sighs, sitting down as Austria does so. She frowns. “I wish you’d tell us what’s wrong.”

Prussia attempts to laugh the situation off, for both of their sake. He waves his arm and nearly tips over. “I’m fine.”

Hungary looks away. “No you’re not.”

Prussia keeps waving his hand until she grabs it to make him stop.

There’s an uncomfortable pause.

“Are those…bruises?”

She rolls up his shirtsleeve, her eyes widening when they both stare at his arm.

It looks even worse now.

Her voice cracks. “Did I do this?”

Prussia vomits.

* * *

 

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Hungary seethes when they get back to the hotel.

Germany scrunches up his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not playing this game, Ludwig.”

“I haven’t noticed—”

“How the fuck couldn’t you have noticed!?”

“Elizabeta,” Austria says calmly, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Hungary deflates.

“I’m sorry,” Germany chokes out. “You know I’m horrible at noticing stuff like this. He’s honestly been acting as he usually does, so I haven’t…” he trails off.

“No, it’s okay,” Hungary murmurs. “I’m sorry. I just…”

Austria rubs her back. “Gilbert will tell us when he wants to.”

“But that’s what I’m worried about. I’m afraid he won’t. You know how he is.”

They stand there in silence.

Germany eventually looks at the clock. “It’s midnight. You two are welcome to stay here.”

“Our belongings are at our hotels, though,” Hungary mutters.

“I can get them.”

“Ludwig, you don’t have to—”

“I took a nap earlier. I’m fine. You two should be with Gilbert in case he wakes up.”

With that, they give him their room keys and hotel addresses, and he leaves.

They end up standing over Prussia.

“He’s fine,” Austria says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Yeah,” Hungary mumbles.

It feels like a lie.

* * *

 

 _18. April 2015_  

Prussia wakes up because he hears a vibrating noise.

He opens his eyes and blinks to get the haziness out of them and is immediately hit with an excruciating headache, followed by sharp pains throughout his body. As icing on the cake, his mouth tastes vile.

_Did I take my pain meds last night?_

_No. Right. I blacked out after throwing up._

He looks around and is confused when he sees Austria and Hungary on either side of him, lying halfway off the bed. He then realizes he’s back in his hotel room.

His phone vibrates again. It’s on the nightstand next to the alarm clock, and he can’t reach it without disturbing either—

Oh. Fuck. It’s 6 AM.

He sits up. Austria falls off the bed and kicks Hungary in the face.

She blinks, rubbing her cheek. “I see you’re awake.”

“The UN meeting is in an hour,” Prussia responds.

Austria scrambles up off the floor as Hungary jumps out of bed.

“Do you two even have your suitcases—”

“Ludwig got them for us,” Hungary rushes out, sprinting to the bathroom.

Prussia’s head is pounding. Germany’s bed is empty, and the sheets are perfectly made. “Rod, you’re putting your shirt on backward.”

He freezes, then corrects it.

_I think my meds are in the bathroom. Fuck, Liz better not go through my bag—_

Austria asks something.

Prussia rubs his temples. “Sorry, repeat that.”

“I said; how are you feeling?”

“Chipper.”

Austria frowns, but Hungary steps out of the bathroom before he can say anything else.

“Roderich, your turn.”

He runs inside.

Prussia finally checks his phone.  

> **WhatsApp** :
> 
>          [5:54]
> 
> > **Francis** : I need SUIT
> 
>          [5:56]
> 
> > **Francis** : ?
> 
>          [6:00]
> 
> > **Francis** : Clothing???
> 
>          [6:08]
> 
> > **Francis** : HEL P 

Deciphering any texts from France is like looking at hieroglyphics.

Prussia’s head is still throbbing, so he throws in the towel and calls him.

“Do you have an extra suit?” England asks as soon as the other line picks up.

Prussia is momentarily taken aback. “No…?” He shifts and winces in pain.

“Because Francis forgot his, and he’s freaking out.”

France screams something in the background.

“Who are you talking to?” Hungary asks.

“By any chance, do either you or Rod have an extra suit?”

Hungary scrunches up her eyebrows. “Roderich does?”

Austria comes into the main room. “What?”

Prussia throws his phone at him and hobbles into the bathroom as fast as he can. Thankfully his pills are still hidden in the back pocket of his toiletry bag.

He takes a quick five-minute shower after swallowing them and brushes his teeth.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he feels like a real person.

Austria is doing his hair and Hungary is throwing on her makeup. They’re both half-dressed.

“Did you resolve the suit issue?” Prussia asks.

Hungary puts on her mascara. “They should be here any minute.”

“What?”

There’s a knock on the door. Prussia, only dressed in his boxers and long-sleeved undershirt, moves to the corner while Hungary opens it.

“ _Thank you_ ,” France gasps.

He and England walk into the already cramped hotel room. Prussia throws on a dress shirt before coming into view.

France is wearing only a robe while England looks completely put together.

“You’re staying at this hotel?” Prussia asks.

England nods as Austria hands France some clothing.

“We have to leave soon,” Hungary says, fixing her hair. “Gil, are your things together?”

“I may act laid back, but I’m actually a very organized person.”

“Are your things together?”

“Maybe?”

“Gilbert.”

“It will take two minutes.”

Austria finishes putting on his concealer. “And you still need to get dressed.”

“I think my current outfit is perfect, actually.”

“You can wear Francis’s robe,” England says as France darts to the bathroom.

Prussia grabs his slacks. “Perfect; I’ll put it on right now.” He then hoists them up and grabs a belt so that they don’t fall off his waist. They never used to, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

It’s as he starts gathering his shit together for the UN meeting that he happens to glance at the back of England’s neck.

“Arthur.”

He looks at him. “What?”

“There’s a giant ass hickey on the back of your neck.”

“Excuse me?”

Prussia points. “I mean, it should heal soon anyway, but.”

England walks to the nearest mirror and twists his head, scowling when he sees it. “Francis!”

France opens the door, looking completely put together, like he hadn’t been wearing a robe just five minutes ago. “What?”

“I told you _not_ to leave any visible marks!”

“Oops?”

England looks like he’s about to rip out every follicle of France’s hair. Prussia attempts to mediate. “Rod and Liz have makeup.”

England’s shoulders slump. “Will it match my skin tone?”

Austria walks over and dabs a huge blob of concealer on his neck. “Maybe.”

England sighs and rubs it in. The color is slightly off, England’s paleness rivals Prussia’s albinism, but it does its job.

They grab their belongings once everyone is dressed. Prussia hesitates for a split second when they walk out the door, wondering if he should take his pain meds with him, then ultimately decides he’ll be fine.

He elbows France in the ribs as they start walking.

“I see you had fun last night.”

France laughs. “You could say that.”

“Do your government officials know?”

“Well, Arthur has his own room, so…”

“Ah.”

Wales and Northern Ireland are in the elevator when it opens.

“Where’s Scotland?” England asks after an uncomfortable pause. The doors close.

“He went out for breakfast because he claimed the food here is ‘horseshit,’” Northern Ireland mutters.

 _Oh, right. Breakfast_.

Prussia’s stomach growls.

“There’s food at the UN building,” Austria murmurs.

Prussia nods, hoping it’ll be edible. Usually, the food in Geneva is.

Wales stops England when they get to the lobby.

“I got a phone call from our advisor.”

England frowns. “And?”

“It was something about the need for a meeting with me, Northern Ireland, and Scotland?”

“But not me?”

“No.”

“Why are you telling me, then?”

“Because it felt really fucking odd.”

They exchange a weird look, and Prussia suddenly feels wary. Anything out of the ordinary makes him that way, like someone’s going to jump out and start asking him about nukes or the Russian mafia.

Wales starts walking away. “When I asked about you, all he did was dance around the question. So yeah. I’d lay low.”

“Which means not fucking other Nations,” Northern Ireland mutters.

England’s hand flies to his neck just as the other two disappear out the front entrance.

France pales. “Shit, do you think it’s because of last night—”

“No.” England rubs his face. “Knowing them, this could all just be an elaborate ruse.”

Prussia really hopes so.

* * *

 

His forehead’s nearly drenched in sweat when they make it to the UN building. Even with it being so early, the ten-minute walk was still sweltering.

Most of the Nations are already there since the meeting is starting soon. Prussia knows he _should be_ organizing his belongings, but instead, he immediately makes a beeline for the pastry cart.

Also by the cart is South Korea, who’s talking to Vietnam.

Vietnam hates Western Nations. Frankly, Prussia doesn’t blame her. He tries to grab some pastries as quickly as possible, but South Korea stops him just as he’s about to leave and starts chattering away.

Vietnam shoots him a look.

Prussia takes the hint. “Hey, tell me more about it during the lunch break. I have to take my seat before Ludwig yells at me.”

“Sure!”

He stuffs a pastry in his mouth and looks for the said seat. Normally they’re organized in alphabetical order, but today it seems it’s by region. When he finally spots it, he sees Austria, Hungary, and Germany standing nearby and talking. None of them look thrilled.

Prussia hesitates until Spain hits him on the back.

He winces. Spain seems oblivious. “How long are you staying in Geneva?”

“Depends. Why?”

“I was thinking that you, Francis, and I could go out.”

They discussed the possibility on one of their weekly group phone calls. They would Skype, but France barely knows how to use the Internet.

Prussia smiles. “I’m sure it won’t be an issue if I stay longer.”

“Cool! I already picked a restaurant that I want to try.”

“The meeting will be starting in two minutes,” Switzerland announces from the backstage podium.

Prussia idly talks to Spain as they make their way towards their seats, trying to ignore Germany, Hungary, and Austria’s obvious stares. Once there, he sets his stuff down and attempts to act aloof.

He and Spain then both scan the room for France. He’s talking to Canada, America, and England.

Germany takes the seat next to Prussia. “How are you feeling?”

Before he can respond, Italy drags Japan and Romano over. “Ludwig! Ludwig! We _need_ to go to that cat café when we’re in Tokyo next month. You have to agree to go.”

“I already did…”

“Say you agree to go.”

“I agree to go?”

Italy holds up his phone, showing that he’s recorded him. He grins like a shark. “I’m holding you to that.”

“H-Hey.”

“The café is quite pleasant and is in the middle of the city. You’ll enjoy it,” Japan mediates. “Plus, there are dog cafés too.”

Romano scoots over to Spain. Prussia perks up. “Are there bird cafés?”

“A few.”

“Holy shit.”

“Please take your seats,” Switzerland announces.

Austria and Hungary squeeze by Prussia. He avoids eye contact.

“Ready to talk about exchange rates!?” he then mockingly cheers when France sits down next to him.

France makes a face of disgust.

“I, in particular, can’t wait to talk for two whole hours about tariffs,” Spain pipes up.

Prussia snickers and shuffles his papers together, quickly glancing at the itinerary.

...

_15:50—Debriefing on the Jordan bombings._

_..._

It’s the only part of this meeting that might be interesting. 

* * *

 

It’s like some God has heard their prayers today because the food during the lunch break is actually edible.

Prussia finds himself in a group with Spain, Romano, Netherlands, Portugal, Luxembourg, and Belgium. Mainly he’s with these Nations because he’s kind of actively avoiding Hungary and Austria. He feels like if he gives them the opportunity, they’ll start asking him uncomfortable questions.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong. It doesn’t stop him.

Before the break is over, he goes to the bathroom and passes by his Nation Advisor in the hallway. He smiles at her, but she keeps her head down and powerwalks away.

Prussia’s earlier feeling of wariness turns into dread.

* * *

 

As the rest of the meeting goes on, he sits there and waits. He doesn’t know what for, but obviously something is going to happen.

He tries to assess the situation. More Nations are at this assembly meeting than usual, including the entirety of the UK and all of the Chinese Nation Avatars, but that was predetermined months in advance. He tries to think of why Ilse might be stressed, or why the British advisor contacted everyone but England.

_Maybe something about the plan got—_

_No._

_It’s probably because of the Jordan bombings. Maybe Ilse is stressed because the German government just learned more about it. Maybe the British advisor doesn’t want England coming to a meeting because he’s close to America, and the US is clearly involved in this mess, so…_

_Yeah. That has to be it._

But shit like the Jordan bombings has happened before, and no one’s thrown a fit.

Prussia feels like vomiting. He knows Spain, France, and Germany are sending him concerned glances, so he attempts to pull himself together.

But it’s hard.

The meeting ticks on until there are ten minutes left to discuss the goddamn bombings.

America and Russia have to do a presentation, so they stand up. They’re both calm as they walk towards the stage. They’re not expecting anything. They’re acting normal.

Everyone is.

_Maybe I’m just being delusional._

The back doors open, and some officials come in. But Prussia pays them no mind; officials often like to sit in on sessions to take their own notes.

He pays them no mind as they walk towards the stage. He pays them no mind as they stop in front of it.

More officials come in through the back doors, but they stand in the far corner. Prussia feels his stomach twist into knots.

He pays them no—

“What’s wrong?” France whispers, placing his hand on Prussia’s knee.

He jumps, then chuckles nervously. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to vomit.”

“I’m—”

Gunshots.

Prussia’s eyes snap to the stage just in time to see America and Russia’s bodies fall like a sack of bricks.

The officials close to the stage are holding guns. They start screaming at each other. They’re not from one country; it’s a mixture of Russians and Americans. They then rush onto the stage and shoot America and Russia again with a handgun—first in the head, then the heart, and then a major artery in the leg.

The officials know what they’re doing; they’re deliberately prolonging the amount of time the two will remain dead.

They’re being precise.

They drag the bodies, up the aisle lined with the rows of Nations and out the back door, and all the officials previously standing in the far corner follow.

The back door then slams shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My phone is in German (to practice it daily); hence, these translations should be 100% accurate. If you know German and I’m wrong, lol correct me


	6. III. Juhaina

(۱۹۹۰/۱۱/۰۱)

_1 September 1990_

“But why don’t we just drive?” Juhaina asks, her head spinning. “Why do we have to sneak in? And who are these other people? Mom—”

“Juhaina, be quiet,” she snaps.

Juhaina chokes back tears.

They’re both in a car, somewhere in the middle of the desert. Other people are outside, and they’re all preparing to go through a tunnel that’ll lead them into Israel.

Juhaina’s been there before, to Israel, but they actually drove to it. Legally. Through the checkpoint.

Her mother leans her head against the steering wheel.

“Juhaina,” she says after a few moments. “I’m going to get out and talk to those people over there. You’re going to follow me, but I don’t want you saying anything, okay? We’ll then trek through the tunnel. It should take an hour by foot, and when we come out to the other side, there’ll be a car waiting for us. We’ll get into it, and then head to our destination. Understood?”

Juhaina nods, terrified.

“Good.”

* * *

 

Juhaina doesn’t know what she expected their destination to be, but it wasn’t a mall that she used to go to regularly with her family.

It’s nice. There’s an indoor playground, a food court, shops…

Her mother parks the car.

It’s just the two of them now; they ditched those other people after exiting the tunnel. Before they left, though, one of them gave her mother a thick, heavy coat that she’s currently wearing. It’s nearly 45 degrees outside; hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement.

“Can we go to the playground?” Juhaina blurts out when they start walking. She doesn’t expect her to say yes. She doesn’t even know why she asked.

Her mother is wearing a weird expression. “Sure.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

She still has no idea why they’re there and why her mother has the stupid coat on, but none of that matters right now. This is the first time she’s done something fun in _weeks_. Maybe her mother is getting better, then! Sure, she looks claustrophobic because of all the families here for their weekend shopping, but it’s probably because of the stupid coat. Was it a gift? Because it’s not a very good one.

_Dad would have gotten her something nice._

Juhaina blinks rapidly, pushing both him and Samir out of her thoughts when she sees the playground.

It’s pretty empty, just the way she likes it. She glances at her mother, who’s twitching and looking around; then kicks off her shoes and runs to one of the slides.

She pauses when she sees another girl.

“You need to take off your socks to get better traction,” Juhaina informs her. She’s trying to climb one of the slides and is failing pretty miserably.

The girl blinks.

Juhaina’s Hebrew sucks, so she decides to demonstrate. “Look.”

The other girl cocks her head, her dark brown curly hair falling all over her face as Juhaina takes off her socks and points to the slide. She then runs up it.

Now at the top, Juhaina can see the other girl grinning. She takes off her socks as well and runs up, this time successful.

Juhaina points to herself, feeling elated as they both laugh. “Juhaina.”

The other girl does the same. “Dalia.”

Juhaina gestures to another slide, trying to ask if Dalia wants to run up that one as well. She gets the message. They do this for a while—pointing at random slides; then running up them.

It’s really stupid. She knows. But she’s also actually having fun for once.

Eventually, they end up by a slide that’s tucked up against the wall.

Juhaina climbs it first; then freezes when she glances in her mother’s direction.

There are security guards talking to her.

Dalia runs up the slide and crouches next to Juhaina. She then must see her frowning because she says something in Hebrew.

One of the security guards starts tugging at her mother’s coat.

Juhaina feels nervous, so she scoots down the slide. Dalia follows her as she crouches underneath it, trying to peer at her mother, but the angle is—

There’s an explosion.

* * *

 

 _She_ _blew herself up,_ is the first thought Juhaina has when she’s conscious again.

She’s dazed. Her head is pounding, and she feels oddly numb.

_She actually blew herself up._

Juhaina looks down and sees a pole through her calf. All she can do is blink. Her back is against the wall. The slide has collapsed over her, leaving only a small pocket of space.

_Mom became one of those terrorists that uncle use to—_

She looks to her left and sees Dalia. The pole is also going through her calf.

Juhaina tries to speak, suddenly feeling panicky. “D-Dalia?”

She opens her eyes, revealing that both of them are bright red.

They scream at the same time.

“Your—Your eyes,” Dalia gets out first. “They’re red.”

“S-So are yours!”

It takes them a couple of seconds to realize they just spoke two different languages and still understood each other.

Juhaina’s world is spinning. Dalia looks like she’s about to have a panic attack.

“We need to remove the pole,” Juhaina ends up blurting out. “From our calves. The pole.” It’s the only thing she can think of doing.

“It will bleed more if we do,” Dalia chokes. “My mom’s a doctor. She—my mom—she…”

Silence.

“…I can’t remember my mom or dad.”

In a panic, Juhaina tries to think of her own parents. The memories are there, but it’s like trying to recall a dream because they’re fuzzy and hard to grasp.

“I can’t—I’m not even in pain right now; just numb. What—” Dalia suddenly gives Juhaina a desperate look. “What’s my name?”

“Dalia,” she blurts out, desperately trying to maintain her grip on reality. “And I’m—I’m Juhaina.”

“My name is Dalia.”

“Y-Yeah.”

She keeps repeating that phrase to herself while Juhaina stares at the pole.

_We need to move. We can’t stay here._

She reaches out. Dalia is too distracted to notice.

_We need to get out of here. We—_

She pulls the pole.

Dalia’s head snaps up. “W-What are you—”

It comes out.

Both of their wounds then heal rapidly; close in like there was nothing there to begin with.

“Oh,” Dalia whispers.

Something inside Juhaina snaps. “My mother did this.”

“What?”

“She did this to us because she—she blew herself up. _She blew herself up_!”

“Juhaina.”

“She actually—”

“Ju—”

“She killed everyone around here! Your parents! Your—” Her voice cracks.

Dalia frowns.

_We need to move. We can’t stay here._

“I had parents?”

Juhaina starts bawling.

* * *

 

“Mom,” Juhaina whimpers, snot dripping down her face.

“Juhaina, it’s okay,” Dalia murmurs. For the past thirty minutes, every sentence she’s said has started with either of their names.

“But it’s not!” They’ve had this argument ten times now. “She—”

“Is anyone here?” someone calls out in Hebrew.

They freeze.

“Hello?” the person yells again.

Juhaina and Dalia send each other panicked looks.

_I don’t know how to respond in Hebrew._

Dalia must realize that. “Over here!” she screams.

The person curses. “Shit, it’s just a little girl. Ssh, it’s going to be okay. It’s…”

* * *

 

It takes twenty minutes for the workers to dig them out of the rubble.

As soon as Juhaina lays eyes on them, she’s suddenly filled with dread.

It’s unreasonable. It makes no sense; she knows. She knows, but everything in her body is screaming for her to run away, back to Palestine, away from all of this.

She starts crying again.

* * *

 

They’re taken to where there’s a bunch of ambulances and are given a medical examination.

It’s now nighttime.

“Both are fine; no physical injuries,” one doctor murmurs, standing up.

She and Dalia are sitting on foldout chairs, shock blankets draped over them, bottles of water in their laps. Dalia is mumbling their names under her breath. Juhaina, meanwhile, feels like she’s going to vomit.

The realization that everyone in her family is dead has dawned on her.

Eventually, a man walks over to them and slowly crouches until he’s at their eye level.

“Girls,” he starts off. “My name is Dr. Berenbaum. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to answer some questions first. Can you start by telling me your full names?”

“My name is Dalia,” Dalia blurts out like her life depends on it. “She’s Juhaina.”

Juhaina _really_ feels like she’s going to vomit.

“Okay, Dalia. Can you tell me your full names and relationship to one another?”

Juhaina realizes she has no idea what her full name is.

Dalia looks like she’s about to cry. “N-No.”

“You two don’t look related,” Dr. Berenbaum says, switching topics. “Are you friends? Were you with your parents when you first got to the mall?”

_My mom exploded._

“We’re friends,” Dalia mumbles.

“Were you with your parents?”

Dalia nods rapidly. Juhaina clenches her jaw.

“What are their names?”

They don’t respond.

Dr. Berenbaum sighs and stands up, causing Juhaina to see a phone clipped to his belt.

“That!” she blurts out in Hebrew, abruptly remembering that her uncle isn’t just a figment of her imagination.

“Excuse me?”

“Your—Phone. Call my family,” she again forces out in the same language.

Dr. Berenbaum blinks; then hands it to her. Behind him, Juhaina sees rescue workers moving around, talking in hushed voices.

_Uncle can help. Uncle is real. Uncle gave us—the passports! They exist. He exists! And his phone number…_

He picks up immediately. “Hello?”

“U-Uncle.”

* * *

 

“He’s coming, Juhaina.”

She squirms. “But why aren’t they letting me talk to him!? Dr. Berenbaum took the phone away after I only said a sentence!”

“We just have to wait, and then it’ll get better,” Dalia whispers.

That is the last thing Juhaina wants to do.

“You—You remember your uncle! He’s your family, and you remember him. So it has to get better!”

She and Dalia are in a hospital room, sitting on a bed. Dalia is picking at the sheets.

Juhaina wants to scream.

“Poor girls,” some nurse murmurs from the hallway. Her voice quickly fades away.

She clenches her jaw. That’s what many people have been saying since they’ve gotten here. _“Poor girls. They’re in such shock they’re afraid to speak. Their parents are probably dead; otherwise, they’d be looking for them. Poor girls. I wonder when the one’s uncle is going to arrive.”_

_“Those damn animals—blowing themselves up and killing innocent people. Disgusting. Truly disgusting. They’re the cause of this. Those poor girls.”_

_Disgusting. Disgusting._

_Mom wasn’t disgusting._

_She was just wracked with grief after Samir and Dad—_

_Samir! That was his name._

“What’s my name?”

Juhaina snaps back to reality? “What?”

“What’s my name?” Dalia repeats, almost desperate.

“Dalia.”

She nods; then starts crying.

* * *

 

“U-Uncle.”

He runs over and embraces her, and a rush of relief instantly runs through Juhaina.

_He’s real. He exists._

“I tried to stop her,” her uncle lets out with a shudder. “I tried to stop her, but it didn’t work. I’m so, so sorry, Juhaina.”

She grips the back of his shirt.

“But you’re safe now, so don’t worry. I won’t let anything else happen to you, Honey.”

Tears are welling up in Juhaina’s eyes, but she tries to hold them back. She nods into his chest.

Her uncle then slowly pulls away, his hand remaining on her shoulder, and looks at Dalia. She’s almost petrified.

“Who’s this?” he asks.

“I Dalia,” she blurts out in broken Arabic.

“She has to come with us,” Juhaina chokes out, her voice cracking. Her head begins to pound.

“I want to come with you,” Dalia whispers.

Her uncle rubs his face. His eyes are sunken in and are pink from crying. “Listen, Juhaina; I can’t take an Israeli girl with me to Jordan. I shouldn’t even be in Israel right now. I don’t have her passport, I’m not her legal guardian, and the Jordanian government wouldn’t allow it. Plus, if they somehow find out that you and I are linked to your mother; I don’t want to drag this Israeli girl into the mess we may have to deal with. Juhaina, I know this is asking a lot, but I need you to be a big girl and understand this.”

“Wait, we’re—we’re not going back to Palestine?”

“No.”

“Then I can come!” Dalia tries again.

“No, I just said—” Her uncle stares, something clicking in his mind. “How does she know Arabic?”

Dalia fidgets. “I just do.”

“She just does,” Juhaina says at the same time.

Her uncle sighs. “Sweetie, please.”

“SHE HAS TO COME!”

Her uncle backs up and slams into a medical cart.

“Your eyes are red again,” Dalia mumbles in Hebrew.

Juhaina can sense the people out in the hallway. She has no idea how, but everything feels too overwhelming.

“I’ll—I’ll find a way to take both of you to Jordan,” her uncle eventually whispers. He’s looking at her as if she’s a monster.

Juhaina has no idea what to do when he leaves.

* * *

 

It’s been several hours.

Juhaina is hungry, and Dalia has to pee, and they’re both anxious and fearful.

No one has come into the room since her uncle left. All she’s heard is passing conversations out in the hallway, for whatever reason, most of them in English now.

There’s a clock in the room. It’s 11 PM, way past Juhaina’s bedtime.

When she suddenly remembers how her dad used to tuck her in at night, she starts crying again.

* * *

 

Eventually, the door does open.

It’s not her uncle, though. Instead, it’s an American man who comes inside. Juhaina doesn’t know how she can tell his nationality, but she’s sure of it.

“Where’s my uncle?” Juhaina asks in Arabic, her heart pounding.

“In English, please,” the man responds.

“W-Where—my uncle—where?”

“He’s fine.”

“…”

“You know, it was by pure luck that we found you two. Pure luck!”

The girls stare at him.

“This program we started in 77‘—it’s truly wonderful. Without it, we never would’ve found you two. We’re finally getting back on par with the Russians again.”

“I don’t like you,” Dalia forces out in English.

“Well, that’s a shame, ’cause you’re coming with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti*
> 
> I hope you see how they relate to this story a little bit more. Hopefully. I hope.


	7. Chaos

_2015 년 04 월 18 일_

“Seriously,” South Korea says, tipping back his chair and looking over his shoulder. “You should go out with us tonight.”

Vietnam purses her lips. “I don’t know…I had this wonderful plan to sleep before my 7 AM flight.”

South Korea points at Thailand. “He’s coming.”

“I’m coming.”

Vietnam chews the tip of her pen. “But…I don’t like drinking.”

“You don’t have to! Just hang out for a little bit. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah!” Taiwan pipes up. She’s sitting in the same row as South Korea. He’s on the edge, next to Japan, with China on Japan’s other side. Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau are then next to China, while Thailand, Vietnam, Singapore, Laos, Cambodia, and Philippines are in the row behind them.

Currently, they’re waiting for America and Russia to finish setting up for their ten-minute ‘discussion’ on the Jordan bombings. Once that’s done, everyone can leave.

Vietnam smiles and playfully pushes South Korea. “Ugh. Fine, I’ll go.” She pauses. “Who’s coming again?”

“I am,” Thailand pipes up.

“I know you are.”

“Me, him, Yao and crew, and anyone else here who wants to, really,” South Korea responds.

“What about you, Kiku?” Vietnam asks, using her pen to poke the back of his neck.

He rubs it. “I have plans.”

“With who?”

South Korea gives her a look. “Who do you think?”

“Well, that could either be his Axis goons or his fuck buddy up there on the stage.”

Japan’s cheeks turn red. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Hm, so it’s him? What are you doing?”

“We’re going out to dinner…”

South Korea makes a kissing face. Japan kicks his chair, and it almost tips over.

“I’m surprised you’re coming, Yao,” Vietnam says, ignoring them. “I would have thought that you and—”

“Ivan is catching a plane after this,” China interrupts with a picture perfect poker face, packing up his papers. Behind him, Hong Kong rolls his eyes. South Korea has to keep himself from laughing.

Some officials then enter through the back door, but he barely registers them. Instead, he scans the room.

It’s divided up into three columns. He’s in the one to the far left, near the door the officials just came through, close to the stage.

Besides all the Asian Nations in his column, there are also the few Middle Eastern ones that actually exist. The explanation for why there’re so few is chalked up to a couple of reasons: governments there are unstable, borders are questionable at times, and sometimes Nations just don’t form. At one point, Ancient Nations were in that area, but they have since ceased to exist.

There are also some African Nations seated with them, but they’re mostly grouped together in the middle column, with all the ones from North, South, and Central America. The far right column, finally, is all the Europeans.

There are 34 rows in each column, so the room is pretty cramped.

South Korea can’t wait to get out of it.

The officials approach the stage. He watches them lazily, then turns his attention back to America and Russia just in time to see their bodies hit the ground like two sacks of bricks.

He realizes his ears are ringing and registers that he just heard a gunshot. The officials start shooting them again. In the head, the chest, the leg. They then drag the bodies off the stage; drag them right past South Korea and out of the room.

The door slams shut.

South Korea isn’t sure if he just hallucinated that entire event.

He looks at Japan, feeling dazed, and sees that his eyes are bright red. China, meanwhile, is getting paler by the second.

Suddenly, it feels hard to breathe.

Japan starts gasping for air.

Taiwan reacts first. “Kiku, you’re having a panic attack. You—You need to calm down.”

Japan shakes his head. His presence starts to grow.

Off to the other side of the room, South Korea can feel some of the European Nations’ presences expand as well. 

“Kiku, put your head between your legs.” Taiwan makes eye contact with South Korea. “And Yong-Soo, breathe.”

“Why were they shot?” Vietnam whispers as South Korea nearly chokes on his own spit. No one responds to her.

“Yao, are you okay?” Taiwan asks instead.

“I’m fine,” he says dully. His presence would argue otherwise. He seems to have lost control of it.

“Yong-Soo, you _need_ to breathe,” Taiwan snaps again after his face changes color, her voice raising an octave.

But it’s hard. He thought all of this was over. It _was_ over. It—He nearly chokes again and suddenly has no control over his thoughts. All he can see is him being tortured during the Second World War, and America getting hit by the poison bullet, and—

Vietnam clasps his shoulder, still looking utterly confused. “Yong-Soo, it’s going to be okay.”

He gives a shaky nod. Japan continues to tremble. China remains frozen like a statue.

* * *

 

They sit there.

No one gets up from their seats. No one moves, really, and the only sounds are from quiet murmurs every now and then.

As time goes on, South Korea half expects America and Russia to walk through the doors, unharmed, saying something stupid like, “Wow! Congratulations everyone, you passed!” Like all of this was just a test; something made up by their governments to measure their reactions.

Only, it’s been two hours, and that hasn’t happened.

South Korea’s back is killing him. These chairs suck, and he wants nothing more than to stand up and stretch. But he’s afraid to do that. Hell, he’s afraid to shift his body weight.

Next to him, Japan is rigid. He’s been staring at the table for the past hour and a half. China has been too.

There are voices outside the door, but they fade away. That’s been going on for a while now.

“I have to pee,” Macau mumbles, his expression miserable.

“We’ll be out of here soon,” Taiwan reassures, trying to keep a positive attitude. Hong Kong slinks his arm around her and rubs her back.

The action weirdly bothers South Korea, but he’s so emotionally exhausted that he can’t even think of a remark to make.

There are more voices outside the door, this time sounding angry. All they do is get louder as time goes by, though whatever they’re saying is indistinguishable.

But then, South Korea clearly hears in German, “Fuck you!”

The doors slam open. Everyone’s heads whip around as Prussia’s advisor storms in and makes a beeline for him.

“Gilbert, we have to go.” The doors swing shut.

Prussia stands up. “Ilse, what’s happening?”

“Gilbert, we really have to go.”

“What about Lud—”

“I don’t have authority over him, just you. Please, we have to go before they—they’re really angry.”

Prussia scrambles to grab his stuff. Just as he shuffles out of his row, though, the back doors open again.

A group of people enters, all shouting at each other in a bunch of different languages; English and Russian being the two most distinguishable. When South Korea has a good enough view, he sees that those in front are brandishing guns. Not the laughable ones the other officials from before had, no.

These are machine guns.

A Russian man points at Prussia. “He needs to go on stage!” he screams in heavily accented English.

Ilse looks like she’s about to strangle him. “No, I told you before—”

An American man approaches her. “On the stage. Now.”

“No!”

“ON THE STAGE.”

A machine gun is aimed at Prussia. Ilse does the unthinkable and steps in front of him.

“Okay, everyone, calm down, I’m going,” Prussia chokes out. He backs up slowly. “See, I’m following orders, alright?”

The machine gun is lowered.

Prussia walks onto the stage, appearing dazed. South Korea, meanwhile, feels like he has a lump in his throat.

“Turn on the microphone,” the Russian from before hisses in English when Prussia is at the podium.

“It’s on,” he responds in the same language, his voice echoing across the room.

The group of people starts arguing with each other.

“Yong-Soo,” Taiwan hisses after Hong Kong mumbles something.

South Korea takes a deep breath. Next to him, he feels Japan trying not to shake.

Finally, the group of people seems to reach some consensus because they stop screaming at one another.

“Tell us how you established a base of contact with the Spanish and French Nation Avatars after the First World War,” a Russian man then yells.

Something in South Korea’s stomach drops.

Prussia speaks slowly. “You do realize that I’ve answered this question about fifty times before. And it’s recorded. By both you and your American buddies.”

“HOW DID YOU—”

“Christ, okay. We communicated through letters that were delivered with the help of this Italian mafia group. I really don’t know much about it, actually. But you know, Romano is in this room, and I’m sure he’d love to—”

“ENOUGH!”

“Jesus, I’m just answering your question.”

South Korea feels like he’s actually going to vomit. He has no idea how Prussia can act this calm.

An American woman opens her mouth, but Prussia cuts her off. “Yeah, before you ask that. What the hell does this have to do with anything? Like, you just dragged Russia and America’s fucking bodies out of the room; and _now_ you’re asking me things I’ve already been interrogated about before!?”

Someone fires a bullet right past Prussia’s head.

Everyone flinches except for him. Instead, he just seems furious. “Next time, don’t miss.”

Someone mumbles something and points to a computer.

Prussia’s eyes are turning red. “Hey, what other questions do you got?”

Ilse starts pacing back and forth.

“That’s all,” an American woman spits. “You’re of no help.”

“ _I’m of no—_ ”

The projector screen descends, startling everyone.

It’s behind Prussia, so he has to crane his head to look. “The hell is this?”

South Korea feels the blood drain from his face. The video feed is split into two windows. On one there’s Russia, tied up to a chair and gagged, most of his clothing stripped from him. He looks like he’s drugged; his head is lolling to the side, and he appears to be drooling. On the other window is America. He’s also stripped of most of his clothing and tied to a chair. He, however, isn’t gagged and doesn’t appear to be as drugged. Instead, he has several gashes all over his body that are bleeding profusely, and they’re not healing for whatever reason.

Both Japan and China breathe in sharply.

On screen, several men approach Russia. One rips the gag out of his mouth. Another forcefully injects something into his arm. Russia doesn’t even flinch. Instead, his head just flops down.

They push him to a table, throw his arms over it, and then refocus the camera. Some drool falls out of Russia’s mouth as they ask what sounds like a question, but the audio is incomprehensible. A man then grabs a knife and chops off one of his fingers when he doesn’t respond.

Russia screams. China’s presence expands throughout the entire room.

On America’s screen, men start talking, but their voices are also inaudible.

America is shaking he’s in so much pain. He doesn’t respond.

The American men get angry and start beating him as another one of Russia’s fingers is chopped off. Japan makes a choking noise. They raise a knife—

The video feed stops.

South Korea can feel the group of officials staring at Japan and China.

_They’re going to bring them up to the stage._

He frantically sits up straight just as Prussia’s voice screeches over the mic.

“I’m really liking your use of Nazi techniques!”

The officials who started moving towards them freeze. Two guns are pointed at Prussia’s head again.

“Get him off of there.”

Prussia keeps rambling. “I see you’re implementing two of them. First one, using this super powerful drug to make a Nation incapacitated.”

“Get him off—”

“The second! Another drug, but with different effects. Thanks to a specific compound in a Nation’s blood—”

“Gilbert,” Ilse hisses.

Now he’s spewing nonsense. “Did you know Hitler snorted cocaine!? Did you know I was dragged out of Potsdam while I was dying because all of you think we’re—”

“Stop!” one of the men holding a gun shouts.

“Shoot him!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Ilse screeches.

“Do you actually think pulling this shit makes us want to respect our governments!?” Prussia screams. “Because drugging Ivan and putting Alfred in an immense amount of pain is not—”

Someone grabs him. Ilse starts thrashing as they restrain her as well.

“You’re the ones who told me to go up here!”

“Shut up, you abomination.”

“An abomination!? For what; going against the Nazis—”

Prussia is slapped. Ilse shrieks until a Russian man raises his hand.

“Give him the chance to cooperate.”

“ _I’ve been_ cooperating.”

“We’re going to put an image on the screen and ask you a question. Answer truthfully, or you’ll join the other two.”

Ilse pales. Prussia’s expression, somehow, remains the same. “Fine.”

The image flashes up on the screen.

“Do you know who they are?” the Russian asks.

“You want me to be truthful?”

“Yes.”

“100% truthful?”

“Let’s just take him away,” someone hisses.

“The one man’s name is Kazimir Gorelov,” Prussia spits when they start jockeying him. “He was my Nation Advisor who oversaw me being tortured in your Siberian base and monitored my actions when I was being used in the goddamn Secret Nation Army during the Korean War. I saw him get shot twice, and he was in the base when it exploded. He’s dead. I’ve been asked this question before. And I have no idea who the other man is.”

Except he has to know because the other is Frank, America’s advisor who showed up during the road trip.

South Korea finds it hard to breathe.

“Kazimir Gorelov is alive.”

China inhales sharply.

South Korea’s eyes shoot to him as Prussia laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Kazimir Gorelov is alive,” the Russian man continues, “is in possession of the nukes America and Russia traded as per your plan, and is currently threatening to use them, as well as leak classified information about Nations to the public that he gathered from the Jordan bombings.”

Prussia looks nothing but confused. “ _Excuse me_?”

He starts to repeat himself, but Prussia cuts him off. “He would be in his eighties by now; how could he—”

“He orchestrated them,” an American woman interrupts.

“We need you to admit there was a plan, which you prompted by first setting up that base of contact with Spain and France,” the Russian man continues.

Prussia isn’t even struggling anymore. The guards release both him and Ilse as a weird tension takes over.

“Why?” he eventually mutters.

“We can’t move forward unless you do. We can’t do anything else unless one of you admits this, and America and Russia sure as hell aren’t being cooperative.”

 _Cooperative_. The word makes South Korea’s stomach turn.

Prussia clenches his jaw. “Why should I trust anything you’ve said?”

No one answers him.

“Fine,” he mumbles after what seems like years. Ilse stares at the ground, shaking. “There was a ‘plan.’”

The weight of his words smacks South Korea in the face.

Five different presences expand as there are murmurs amongst the officials. Someone then confirms they got his confession recorded. Ilse deflates.

The Russian man who was previously talking looks away. He’s stiff as a board. “Okay. Then we have enough information for now.”

“See, we didn’t need to question the two faggots.”

“Did you see their faces?”

“What abominations.”

Their voices fade until the door slams shut.

Ilse finally speaks. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Prussia mutters.

“I—I didn’t want you to admit it, but now—” She cuts herself off. “Gilbert, this situation is serious. The information leak could not only ruin your lives but our’s too as Nation Advisors. Our bosses are threatening us to get everything under control, so everyone is—” She takes another deep breath.

“This—these people are scared and angry. Most of us just found out about this a couple of hours ago. Shit, even the world leaders are flying out here. I—” She breaks off again. “I’ll be back later. I wanted to take you with me, but now that you—I’ll be back later, I promise.”

With that, she leaves.

South Korea can feel his pulse hammering when Prussia stumbles back to his seat.

As soon as he reaches it, the room turns chaotic.

Japan stands up and shoves past South Korea, darting to the corner to vomit. Both Italy and Taiwan rush over to see if he’s okay.

Vietnam clasps South Korea’s shoulder. “Yong-Soo, do you know what’s going on?”

South Korea’s brain is short-circuiting.

She must realize she won’t get an answer out of him because she turns to China. “Yao, do you—”

She freezes.

China is visibly shaking; the mask he usually wears cracked to the point where he’s close to tears.

Vietnam now seems tongue-tied while Hong Kong and Macau stare in shock.

Thailand tries to remain calm. “Please, Yong-Soo, you and America are friends, right? Do you know what’s going on?”

“I don’t even know who Kazimir Gorelov is,” is what comes out of his mouth.

“He’s supposed to be dead,” China whispers.

“THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW!” Prussia screams from across the room.

Spain and France yell something back, but South Korea can’t hear what. It’s muffled by all the other confused and angry voices in the room.

“Yong-Soo,” Thailand tries again.

South Korea dry heaves. Vietnam quickly hands him a bottle of water as France storms over, Canada flanking him.

“How come they told you about the nukes?” France screams at China. It isn’t making his appearance any better. “How did they even acquire them? _What the fuck_?”

Canada yanks his arm. “Francis.”

“I can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell us, Matthieu!”

“What was I supposed to say!?”

France ignores him and looks at China again. “How did they get—”

“I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE NUKES!” he screeches. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW KAZIMIR IS ALIVE!”

France physically recoils. South Korea dry heaves again. Off in the corner, Japan is having another panic attack.

“What’s going on?” Macau asks desperately.

Spain shoves his way over, Romano trailing him. He seems extremely tense. “Francis, what’s done is done.”

“But why did they—”

“They did it to help you and your stupid plan!” China screams, his voice cracking. ~~~~

Vietnam stands up. “Yao.”

Prussia pushes his way over, Hungary, Austria, and Germany following. “Francis,” he attempts to say calmly. “Breathe.”

France’s presence is all over the place. “But I feel—”

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

“What the hell did you European shitheads do?” Vietnam spits, rubbing China’s back. Seeing him in this state makes South Korea’s head spin.

Canada bites his lip. “Uh.”

“You WHAT?” Scotland screeches at England from across the room. He, Wales, and Northern Ireland are staring at him in disbelief.

Vietnam looks at Canada expectantly as Germany jerks out of his trance and runs over to Japan. Hong Kong begins to follow him, but South Africa and India come over and start barraging him with questions before he can.

“We rescued some Eastern European Nations from the Soviet Union,” Canada mutters to Vietnam.

She frowns. “Who the hell is ‘we’?”

“ _HOW MUCH_ MONEY DID YOU STEAL?” Scotland screams.

Japan curls into himself. China’s breathing becomes erratic.

“Yong-Soo, stop holding your breath,” Thailand whispers.

“A bunch of Nations. China, Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and Taiwan were also involved,” Canada mumbles to Vietnam.

She whirls around and looks at South Korea. “What!?”

South Korea lays his head on the table.

He realizes he’s crying.

* * *

 

Eventually, everyone calms down.

It’s 8:33 PM. South Korea has been fiddling with his phone for the past hour and a half. The battery is low, 28%, and he can’t charge it because he left his stupid charger in the hotel room.

He’s kneeling on the ground, back pressed against the wall. Next to him are Vietnam, who’s also playing with her phone, and Thailand, who’s scribbling on his arm with a sharpie marker. The two haven’t asked him anything regarding the plan since they learned about his involvement, thankfully.

Japan is near them, sitting next to Italy and Germany. His eyes are closed, and he’s listening to music

China is still in his seat. His back is hunched, and he’s been drawing for the past hour. Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau are with him. Sometimes South Korea and Hong Kong will make eye contact, but it never adds up to anything.

Some of the European Nations are hanging close by as well, including England and France: France because of his previous screaming match of a conversation, and England because he quietly talked to Japan not too long ago.

Ukraine and Belarus are also hovering. They talked to China for a bit, but South Korea couldn’t hear their conversation.

He sighs, letting his phone slip from his hands.

Macau abruptly stands up. “I have to pee.”

Hungary, also nearby, points at the fake tree they threw in the corner to conceal Japan’s vomit. “Pee in the plant.”

South Korea experiences a weird bout of déjà vu.

“I am not peeing in the plant.”

“Then wet your pants,” Vietnam mutters.

South Korea smirks, unable to help himself. “Yeah, go to the Piss Plant.”

Macau glares, but clearly, he really has to go because he’s squeezing his legs.

There’s a pause that feels like it lasts forever.

“Fine. But don’t watch.”

“Hey everyone, Chiu is going to piss in the plant,” South Korea fake announces.

Hong Kong snickers, and Macau grabs one of China’s crumpled up drawings and chucks it at him.

“There’s more cover in the corner over there,” Portugal says, walking over as Taiwan tells them both to give it a rest. “We can move some chairs to make it even more private; if you want.”

Macau looks relieved. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”

Portugal gives him a tired grin. “No problem, Chiu.”

“Now _I_ have to pee,” Vietnam mutters after they both walk away.

“The Piss Plant is right there,” South Korea says, gesturing.

“Ha. Ha.”

Suddenly, there are voices outside the door, and the room gets quiet. The only sound is of Macau peeing, which is probably just as awkward for him as it is for everyone else. He finishes and slinks out of the corner into view, looking embarrassed. Portugal pats him on the shoulder as they walk back.

Before they can rejoin the other East Asian Nations, though, the back door opens.

South Korea doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not random officials just chucking in Russia and America’s bodies; then closing the doors.

Japan and China react instantly.

China bolts out of his seat while Japan rips out his headphones and sprints up the aisle. South Korea is frozen. He doesn’t know what he should—

America starts screaming as soon as Japan touches him.

All at once, everyone moves.

South Korea runs over to help. With what, he doesn’t know. America is throwing a fit and getting blood everywhere while Russia is unresponsive. He’s completely covered in wounds, and his fingers have only half-grown back.

China makes eye contact with South Korea when he gets close. His expression is desperate. “There’s more space near the stage. Help me move him there.”

South Korea looks at America. Japan, England, France, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are helping him, more Nations hovering. It seems like they’re moving near the stage as well.

“Yong-Soo,” China pleads.

South Korea jerks himself out of his trance. Just as he does, Macau, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Thailand, Belarus, and Ukraine run over.

Ukraine appears frantic. “I have a first-aid kit.”

No one questions why.

“We need to move him near the stage first,” China chokes out.

Estonia, Lithuania, Poland, and Latvia come over. Lithuania is out of breath. “If you need us to do anything—”

China’s eyes turn bright red as he exerts all of his strength to pick Russia up. For a split second, South Korea is taken aback by how much stronger he’s gotten, but he quickly stops thinking about it and spots him. America is in the far right corner, near the Piss Chairs, so China places Russia in the far left, near the Piss Plant.

Russia suddenly regains semi-consciousness when China sets him down. His eyes get all gooey. “Yao.”

“Ivan, it’s going to be okay. Here, Katya, open your first-aid kit. I’m going to rip off his clothes so we can see his wounds better. If we clean them out, they may heal faster—”

Russia cups China’s face. “Yao.”

China looks broken for a split second. “I’m here, Ivan.” He gently removes his hand. “Does anyone have scissors?”

“There’s some in the first-aid kit,” Ukraine rushes out. “Natalya, you have a water bottle, right? Go get that.”

“I have one too,” Lithuania says quickly, following Belarus. Poland trails him.

China reaches for the scissors. “Here, I can—”

“I got it,” Ukraine interrupts, crouching down. She starts to cut Russia’s clothing.

Russia flails his arms. “Yao.”

He’s concentrating on his now exposed wounds. “Yes?”

“Yao.”

China makes eye contact with him. “What?”

Russia smiles, then lets out a giggle, something South Korea has never seen him do in his life. “You’re so beautiful.”

China appears tongue-tied.

“I love you.”

Belarus comes back and dumps water on one of his huge stomach lacerations. He winces in pain and closes his eyes.

New Zealand is suddenly there. “Can we borrow your scissors?”

Ukraine finishes cutting Russia’s pants and hands them to him.

“Do you think they gave him that healing-blocker drug?” Belarus mumbles.

“Probably,” Ukraine responds, her face focused. “We need to disinfect the wounds. I have peroxide. Can someone hand it to me?”

“What don’t you have?” South Korea mumbles in a daze as Thailand passes it to her. He’s staring at China caressing Russia’s face, every single one of his emotional barriers utterly destroyed because of the man beneath him.

“The cure for the healing-blocker.”

America has finally stopped screaming.

Ukraine dabs some peroxide onto one of Russia’s wounds, and he hisses in response. China grabs his hand.

New Zealand runs back with the scissors. “Thanks.”

Ukraine is busy, so South Korea takes them.

“His underwear is soiled,” Vietnam mutters.

The last thing South Korea wants to see is Russia completely naked. Looking at his bare chest is already weird.

“We’ll deal with it later,” China murmurs, rubbing circles into Russia’s hand. He makes a whimpering noise.

South Korea drops the scissors into the first-aid kit and sits down.

* * *

 

It’s 9 PM.

South Korea’s phone is officially out of power.

It sucks because he doesn’t have an iPhone like almost everyone else here. Instead, he has a Samsung. America also has one, but when South Korea raided his bag, the only thing he found was an American charger, no plug converter.

No one has their laptops here for security reasons either, so no USB ports.

There’s one iPhone charger floating around that people are fighting over. South Korea is envious.

On top of now being bored, he’s starving. He had to pee ten minutes ago, but the Piss Plant fixed that problem.

As a result of everyone using the Piss Chairs and Piss Plant, the room smells disgusting. The stench of America and Russia also isn’t helping.

The two are asleep. America died once, then quickly came back to life, and has been slumbering ever since. After Ukraine finished cleaning out Russia’s wounds, whatever drugs in his system caused him to lose consciousness.

South Korea is sitting in the area between the two. Every now and then he’ll stand up to check on them. Both of their wounds are finally healing; not as fast as they normally would, but at least it’s something.

He sighs and fiddles with his suit jacket. The only reason he hasn’t taken it off is because of the blasting AC. Outside, the heat is oppressive, so he guesses this is the better alternative.

Vietnam plops down next to him.

“How was your experience at the Piss Chairs?” South Korea asks dully.

“Wonderful.”

“It smells like a sewer in here.”

She leans her head back. “Yeah.”

He then looks at America to do his half-hourly check. Nothing new there, just Japan cradling him and England standing nearby like he’s a guard dog or something.

China and Russia, meanwhile, are still in the same position. When glancing in their direction, South Korea makes eye contact with Taiwan. He forces out a smile. She gives one back and nudges Hong Kong.

His eyes slide away before they can look at each other, though, getting distracted by Thailand sitting down with a stack of torn out notebook paper.

“What’s that for?” he asks dully.

“Origami.”

There’s a knock.

Everyone’s eyes fling to the door, and China and Japan become rigid, but it’s just Ilse who enters. She gags when the smell hits her.

South Korea glances at Prussia, then frowns when he sees him hunched over in pain. His friends are all staring at him, but he angrily waves them off and walks towards her.

Ilse meets him halfway, then guides him out of the room.

Hungary, Austria, Spain, France, and Germany stare at the door like they’re about to run out after them.

“I’m jealous,” Vietnam mutters, grabbing a piece of paper.

South Korea stares at the ground. “What, that he gets to leave the Piss Room?”

“If we stay in here any longer, it may soon become the Shit Room.”

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, the doors open again.

Ilse and Prussia both gag when they walk inside.

South Korea, now surrounded by fortunetellers and shitty cranes, glances at Prussia. He seems immensely better for whatever reason, but getting out of this hell room will probably do that.

He and Ilse walk to the area in front of the stage and drop a few bags.

Everyone stares.

“This is basically everything I could find here,” Ilse rushes out, speaking loudly. “There are water bottles and snacks from a vending machine. I also walked around and collected phone chargers and adaptors. I found a first-aid kit too, but I guess it’s pretty much useless at this point.”

“Do you know how much longer we have to stay here?” Germany asks cautiously, coming closer.

Ilse bites her lip. “Negotiations are still underway, but I’m working on getting the most involved out.”

Prussia scrunches up his eyebrows. “Most involved…?”

“Oh. Right. I probably shouldn’t be explaining this, but. Regarding the plan, the ‘most involved’ are facing the worst consequences.”

South Korea feels his stomach drop.

“But it’s not as bad as you think,” Ilse blurts out. “I mean, I guess that’s hard to believe after—trust me. I’ve been talking to this American man, and he knows some inside details. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon with good news. Gilbert, stay here.” She then swiftly walks out of the room after he nods.

Well, South Korea is close, so he might as well look through the bags they brought. He walks over; then stoops down and simply dumps out the contents of the one, which is all electronic stuff. The other is filled with food, and though he’s hungry, he’s _really_ more concerned about finding a phone charger.

It’s like his prayers are answered. As he grabs a Samsung charger and nearly sprints away, other Nations come over to inspect the stuff.

There’s an outlet right where he was sitting before, so he runs back over to it. Vietnam snorts. “You told us you were _starving_ , and the first thing you grab is that?”

South Korea’s phone lights up as soon as he plugs it in, and he nearly cheers. He then stands up and turns around to answer her, but before he can, a bag of pretzels is thrown in his face.

Hong Kong is staring at him with a dull expression as he scrambles to catch it. “I’m sick of hearing you complain.”

“Then don’t listen to me.”

He avoids eye contact. “It’s kind of hard not to.”

“There’s an AUX cord in here,” Taiwan says, rummaging through the electronics pile before South Korea can respond.

“Ooh, we could hook up someone’s phone to the speaker system and listen to music,” Italy pipes up, holding a bag of chips.

“Alfred’s phone,” South Korea says immediately. “And put it on shuffle.”

A chorus of ‘no’s’ reply back to him.

“Putting Al’s phone on shuffle is like playing Russian roulette,” Canada mutters.

South Korea is finally starting to feel normal. “All the better reason, then.”

“Where’s his phone?” Australia asks.

“No,” Canada says. “No, don’t do it.”

New Zealand throws it to him. “Here.”

“Please, no,” Canada starts to plead.

“Now you’re making me curious,” Vietnam mutters.

“Where are the speakers?” Australia asks.

Japan actually cracks a smile. He runs his hand through America’s hair using his left arm and points with his right. “Over there.”

“No, Kiku, why?” Canada moans.

England also smiles. “His music taste isn’t that bad.”

France tells him to stop kidding himself as Australia plugs it in. He then opens the music app and hits shuffle.

Everyone seems to hold their breath in anticipation.

A Frank Sinatra song starts playing.

“I was expecting something weirder,” Vietnam says as South Korea sits down and opens his bag of pretzels.

“Give it a bit.”

The music provides much-needed relief to the silence. As it plays, everyone slowly rummages through the bags.

Following the Frank Sinatra song is one from the 40’s.

“You had me convinced there would be bizarre shit,” Vietnam says again, folding some more origami.

South Korea fiddles with his phone. “There is, I swear.”

That song ends, and the _Star Wars_ main theme starts playing.

“I mean; this isn’t _that_ weird.”

South Korea rolls his eyes.

He’s only half-paying attention when the song fades out. The first two seconds of the next one; however, cause him to go rigid.

He abruptly stands up. “Skip it.”

 _Gangnam Style_ starts playing at full blast.

He tries to sprint to the phone, but Taiwan grabs the back of his shirt.

“You wanted this,” she says, looking amused.

“I don’t care. Turn it off,” South Korea begs. He’s having war flashbacks to 2012. God, normally he thinks it’s cool when Korean music is popular worldwide, but this fucking song—everyone kept sending it to him. Or he would walk into a room, and they would play it. “ _Do the dance, Yong-Soo!”_

Thankfully, he’s not the only one here who hates it.

“I swear to God; I will strangle someone if they don’t turn off this bloody song!” Scotland yells.

Australia hits ‘next.’ Christmas music starts playing.

“I used to listen to that un-ironically,” America coughs.

South Korea’s head jerks towards him. Both Japan and England seem frozen.

America coughs again. “It was like, a major thing when the music video hit one billion views on YouTube.”

“I know. You sent me multiple screencaps of it,” South Korea finds himself saying.

America chuckles. He sounds exhausted. “Well, yeah.”

“How are you feeling?” Japan murmurs. America’s head is still in his lap.

He closes his eyes. “Like shit.”

“You look a lot better, though,” England says in a hushed tone as more Nations gather around.

America doesn’t respond.

Finally, he opens his eyes again, looking out of it. “Why am I just in my underwear?”

“Your clothes got ruined,” Japan whispers, massaging his scalp.

America leans into his touch. He then jerks his body and tries to sit up a few moments later.

“Alfred—”

“I just remembered—Where’s Ivan? Fuck, he—”

“Ssh, calm down. He’s over there. Yao’s with him.”

“Oh…” America’s body slumps. “I can’t remember much right now.”

“It’s okay.”

He mumbles something unintelligible; then closes his eyes. “I think I’m falling asleep.”

“That’s fine. Rest,” Japan murmurs.

“Are—Are we safe right now?”

“We are. Don’t worry.”

“You’re safe? You and everyone else—”

“Yes, Alfred.”

America sighs. “Okay…” His breathing starts to get slower. “Love you…”

Multiple emotions pass over Japan’s face. “Love you too.”

Seconds later, he’s unconscious.

South Korea stands there like an idiot.

England collapses to the ground. “Well, at least he’s no longer screaming.”

Japan’s expression is unreadable, but he’s rubbing tiny circles into America’s skin.

South Korea sits back down next to Vietnam and Thailand as Chopin starts playing.

“He’s…really in love with him,” Vietnam mumbles after a bit.

South Korea glances at Japan, feeling his body deflate. “Yeah.”

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Vietnam starts to get restless.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

South Korea is playing _Candy Crush_. “Can’t take what anymore?”

“Are you on the ‘most involved’ list?”

South Korea’s anxiety returns with a vengeance. He drops his phone into his lap. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Yong-Soo.”

“But I don’t! It—it doesn’t feel like I did much to be put on that list.”

“What _did_ you even do?”

South Korea squeezes his eyes shut. “I helped transport the Eastern European Nations across the US.”

“ _Why?_ ”

South Korea opens his eyes and rubs his face. “It’s complicated.”

“The hell did you owe any of them? Why did you feel the need to get involved in their shit!? God, now you’re—this is serious!”

“This is serious,” Thailand repeats.

“Lien, I don’t—I don’t even know if I’m one of the ‘most involved,’ and I did it because.” South Korea rubs his face when he thinks about America blocking the poison bullets, or the humiliating party in Paris, or how Russia told him China wanted to see him, and the promise of all of that plus the thrill of helping the other Nations…

“Why?” Vietnam prompts.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbles again. She gives him a frustrated sigh. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I sure hope you don’t because you’re about to face some pretty big consequences.”

“…”

“Listen, Yong-Soo, I—I don’t want you to suffer,” Vietnam whispers. She looks away. “We’ve already had enough of that after the Second World War and Cold War _shit_. And finally, we can all _be_ friends like this! Fuck, I don’t want you to be isolated from me again.”

“Or me,” Thailand pipes up.

Vietnam seems to have forgotten he was there. “Oh, yeah. From everyone.” She fidgets and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry,” South Korea mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

* * *

 

It’s 10:30 PM.

Russia stirred about ten minutes ago but is now unconscious again.

Right now, some American pop song from the 90’s is playing. Before that, it was some really weird Japanese one.

South Korea shifts. He’s tempted to lie down but is a little skeeved out by how gross the floor’s gotten.

Thailand’s head keeps bobbing like he’s about to fall asleep. Vietnam, meanwhile, is still folding origami. There are at least forty cranes around them now.

“Hand me a piece of paper,” South Korea mumbles.

She throws him one. South Korea grabs some of Thailand’s sharpies.

“No more _Candy Crush_?” Vietnam asks.

“I ran out of lives,” South Korea mumbles, doodling. “I paid for unlimited ones for two hours. Those two hours ran out.”

“Buy more.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

She rolls her eyes.

After a bit, there’s an almost timid knock. Even though the noise is quiet, everyone immediately looks in its direction.

Ilse opens the door, gags; then steps inside.

Someone is with her; an old white man with an American pin on his pristine looking suit jacket.

South Korea squints as they walk towards the stage; then feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

It’s suit man.

He becomes rigid. Japan also seems to recognize him, and he practically hunches over America’s sleeping body. They appear to be the only ones who know who he is.

As suit man gets closer, South Korea stands up. Vietnam gives him a confused look.

“The fuck are you doing here?” he hisses in English.

Suit man doesn’t even flinch. “Having my life ruined; nice to see you too. Apparently being seventy-nine doesn’t give me a free pass for this shit.”

South Korea doesn’t know how to respond. Many Nations are shooting him concerned glances.

Even Ilse looks confused. “You know the Nation Avatar of South Korea?” she asks in English.

“You could say that.”

South Korea tastes bile when he remembers how he shot America with that poison bullet.

Suit man shrugs. The room is silent except for the _Star Trek_ theme playing in the background. “That’s in the past, though, just like me working with Frank Radzinski and Kazimir Gorelov to make sure your fucking plan didn’t fail.”

Prussia stands up. “Excuse me?”

Suit man ignores him. “South Korea, Japan, China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, America, England, France, Canada, Russia, Spain, Prussia, Austria, and Hungary. You’re all on the most-involved list. Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, haha, this chapter was long. 
> 
> I finally made Portugal say something. He’s had appearances in the past, but I’ve never made him say anything, cause I know jack shit about Portugal, and that intimidates me.
> 
> yeah *throws confetti* thanks for reading,,


	8. IV. Kazimir

(31 июль 1945 года)

 _31 July 1945_  

Kazimir’s heart is pounding in his throat.

Frank smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” he blurts out. “You too.”

“At least it’s over.”

Kazimir just nods. They’re in Potsdam, Germany at Cecilienhof Palace. Final negotiations are going underway to determine territory allotment in post-war Europe. All the Nations concerned are there, plus a few.

Kazimir feels like he’s going to vomit.

Frank clasps his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

His touch feels like it’s burning through Kazimir’s jacket. He swallows. “Nothing. I’m just nervous.”

“Of what?”

_Let go of me._

“There’s a lot of Nations here,” Kazimir mumbles.

Frank drops his hand. “Fuck them.”

They stand there in the hallway. A few people pass by, but they don’t even notice them.

Kazimir feels like he’s going to explode. “I’ve been practicing my English,” he blurts out after they’re quiet for a while.

Frank lights a cigarette. “Really? Let me hear.”

“Uh.”

“Introduce yourself. That’s easy, right?”

Kazimir nods; then fumbles, “ _Hello, my name is Kazimir Gorelov_.” He cringes at his accent.

“That was good!”

“Stop humoring me.”

“This is your third language. And hell, you know more English than I do Russian.”

“…”

“Here.” Frank hands him a cigarette.

Just as Kazimir takes it, someone starts screaming.

There’s then an explosion of gunshots.

He drops the cigarette as the two of them run to see what’s wrong. They arrive just in time to witness some Soviet soldiers dragging out Prussia’s mangled body.

Kazimir nearly gags. The color drains from Frank’s face. “What—”

More gunshots.

Nations are dragged out of the room, bloody, some with their faces shot—

Frank grabs Kazimir and pulls him out of sight.

Kazimir’s heart is erratic. “I’m fine,” he snaps, yanking his arm away, hating it when Frank babies him. “Those were claimed Soviet Nations, so I should probably…”

Frank shudders.

Kazimir feels like an asshole. “Are you okay?” he blurts out, crouching next to him.

Frank nods. “Yeah. S-Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I don’t like blood. I know—I know that’s pathetic, but.”

Kazimir feels dazed. “It’s not pathetic.”

Frank shakes his head as someone down the hall calls Kazimir’s name.

He stands up. “You have to go.”

That’s the last thing Kazimir wants to do. He just got here. “But—”

“Don’t piss off your superiors. You’re just a kid. You—You can’t.”

Kazimir is frozen. Frank seems so broken, and he can’t just leave him like this. He can’t—his head is spinning, and he finds himself moving closer.

“Kazi—”

He kisses him.

Frank backs up, his hand flying to his lips. “What the fuck?”

“It’s what you do in Russia,” he blurts out, sprinting away.

He’s not an idiot. He knows American men don’t kiss each other like that. He knows he took advantage of the situation.

But shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

* * *

 

(2 апрель 1971 года)

_2 April 1971_

“I didn’t ask to be stationed out here! Fuck, I’ve been helping you!” Kazimir screams, wriggling in pain from where he was shot again.

“You just threatened to sell us out to the Soviet Regime!” Russia yells back. “Fuck you! Fuck all of this! This is payback!”

“Ivan,” China says in Russian. “Just leave him.”

“No!” Kazimir cries out. “Wait! Please don’t leave me here!”

They start walking away.

“PLEASE, I’M SORRY! PLEASE!”

* * *

 

(22 ноябрь 1946 года)

_22 November 1946_

He’s having sex with a prostitute, and all he can think of is Frank.

* * *

 

(13 январь 1947 года)

 _13 January 1947_  

He hasn’t seen Frank since Potsdam.

He takes his anger out on the Nation Avatars. At least _they’re_ more pathetic than him. The dirty Polish boy. The one who’s in love with a man.

Right now, he’s watching the bored people at this god-awful Siberian base beat the shit out of the Polish Nation Avatar.

Poland screams.

Kazimir smiles.

* * *

 

(20 апрель 1971 года)

_20 April 1971_

“He thought you were killed, so he…committed suicide,” Robert mumbles over the phone, sounding dazed.

“But I am—I am alive.” Maimed, with an amputated arm and singed off skin, but still alive.

“Well, he’s not.”

_No._

_No, No, NO—_

“We—We _helped_ them and they—they _betrayed me_. They—”

“Kazimir, enough.”

He starts crying. The mafia members that found him in the wreckage look at him like he’s a piece of garbage.

And after _everything_ , all Robert does is hang up.

* * *

 

(10 сентябрь 1949 года)

 _10 September 1949_  

One could say that he’s developed a hard exterior now.

It’s formed during the past four years while he’s tried to distract himself. Studying English, taking classes at a university, following his Nation Advisor duties—they’ve been nothing but a means to keep him occupied.

It’s been working, too. He’s been maintaining his grip; moving forward.

Until today.

He’s told that the United States wants their Nation Avatars to have a meeting in Japan, and suddenly, the floodgate of emotions he’s been suppressing for years just,

Bursts.

* * *

 

(15 сентябрь 1949 года)

_15 September 1949_

The feelings are still there, and somehow, they’ve gotten worse.

Frank smiles. He looks different, older. His face is more sculpted, and his hair’s a little longer.

Kazimir wants to touch him so badly it hurts.

“It’s been a while,” Frank murmurs in Polish.

Currently, they’re in the hallway. China, America, and Russia are eating lunch in the room nearby.

Kazimir swallows. “Yeah.”

“You look older. I guess you are twenty now, huh?”

Kazimir nods, trying not to squirm, waiting for Frank to bring up the kiss that’s haunted him for four years now.

Frank sighs. “You look like you’re going to vomit.”

Kazimir gnaws on his lip. “I’m fine—”

“Look, if this is about the kiss—listen. I’m sorry I reacted that way. I didn’t know it was a thing in Russia. Just—if you’re going to do it again, give me some warning next time.”

Kazimir blinks, feeling an adrenaline rush. He then gives a shaky laugh. “O-Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

“Seriously; relax. It’s just the two of us,” Frank murmurs, touching his shoulder.

Kazimir is rigid as he hands him a cigarette. Their fingers briefly brush together, and he quickly pulls away, Frank giving him a weird look.

“So, what’ve you been up to lately?” Frank asks after taking a drag.

Despite everything, their conversation quickly falls into an easy rhythm, and Kazimir finds himself relaxing; actually enjoying himself for the first time in _years_. Frank’s laugh is like music to his ears. Nations don’t seem to matter anymore. Everything is fine.

And then Frank checks his watch a half-an-hour later. “I need to fetch the Asian Nations.”

Kazimir nearly sneers.

He sighs. “I know. Stay here; I’ll be quick.”

As he walks away, Kazimir watches him, his eyes tracing the curve of his back.

He hates himself.

* * *

 

(22 апрель 1950 года)

_22 April 1950_

“He’s awake,” Batbayar says, clipboard in hand. His son and assistant, Sasha, nods next to him. They’re both Mongolian; considered undesirable by the Soviet government.

Kazimir can relate.

He rubs his face and nods; then stands up. Russia and China are waiting for him in the hallway. They’re silent. Obedient.

Kazimir likes them that way.

He walks to the room where the Prussian Nation Avatar is—or East Germany now, as his bosses have been telling him. Two soldiers, both armed, are standing at the door. They accompany him inside.

The Nation Avatar is on his bed, and he seems panicked when they enter. He looks pathetic. Emaciated. Broken.

Kazimir tries not to sneer.

He doesn’t have the _right_ to act that way after what he did, after how he’s made Kazimir’s life even more of a living hell.

Batbayar and Sasha lug in a typewriter, and Kazimir speaks once it’s set up.

He really doesn’t want to be here.

“My name is Kazimir. I will be asking you questions. You must answer truthfully, or there will be consequences. This entire conversation is being documented.”

The Nation Avatar nods.

God, Kazimir hates him. “Okay, we will begin now. During the war, is it true that you went against your government to help an Ally Nation?”

Prussia clears his throat; then flinches. “Yes,” he responds in Russian.

Kazimir leans forward. “Can you give me an overview of how you were able to accomplish such a feat?” Not that the Soviet government doesn’t already know, but for whatever stupid reason they want him to ask the Nation again.

“We established contact before the Second World War,” Prussia mutters. “Spain and I.”

“How and why did you establish such contact?”

Prussia shrugs, chewing his lip. “Because I was afraid.” Some snot leaks out of his nose.

Kazimir is getting impatient. These are not the answers his officials want for his stupid report. “But how did you establish such contact?”

The Nation Avatar snaps. “Does it even matter!?”

The soldiers in the room aim their guns at him.

Kazimir, thankfully, doesn’t flinch. He wants to respond, “ _Yes, because if I don’t get your answer, I’ll be threatened and possibly beaten myself, and all of this is your fault anyway for acting out against your nature, you piece of dogshit.”_

Instead, he keeps his face blank, knowing Frank would praise him for it. “I’ll repeat my question; how did you establish such contact?”

Prussia grips his blanket. “Because Antonio lived in a fascist dictatorship that barely paid attention to him, so he was able to skirt around his government and keep contact with the goddamn Italian mafia since organized-crime was on the rise. Because I was absolutely terrified of what Hitler was planning, so I stole any bit of information I could to keep Antonio and Francis safe and gave it to them,” he spits out, rambling.

At the mention of their ‘human names,’ Kazimir feels nauseous. Human names signify that Nations aren’t just obedient tools who can easily be controlled. It means he’s never safe. It means Frank isn’t either.

He tries to act unfazed. “It’s funny how you refer to them as ‘Antonio’ and ‘Francis.’ Why are you calling the two Nation Avatars, Spain and France, that?”

Now Prussia _really_ loses it. “Fuck you. Your own Soviet regime dehumanizes people and Nations just as much as the Nazis. Fuck you. FUCK THIS ENTIRE REGIME!” He turns his head towards Russia and China. The good Nations. The passively watching ones. Easily controllable. Never going against—

“HOW DO YOU FEEL, IVAN AND YAO? NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING, ARE YOU?”

“Calm down,” a soldier orders, gun still raised.

Kazimir is terrified. The Prussian Nation Avatar’s eyes are starting to glow red.

“Calm down _now_ ,” the other soldier orders.

Kazimir desperately tries to act like he’s in control. “Do you know that we’re rehabilitating you?” he calmly asks.

The Nation Avatar is crying. It looks frightening coming out of his red eyes.

Kazimir rambles. “We could be torturing you and continuing Nation research, but we aren’t. However, that doesn’t mean we won’t. We see your strength as a valuable asset and are willing to nourish you and let you live in comfortable conditions, as long as you cooperate with us. Your actions now are causing me to doubt you. Please reassess your behavior.”

China and Russia suddenly double over in pain, and Prussia lunges out of his bed.

Kazimir feels his heart stop. He closes his eyes, having no idea what to—

Gunshots.

His eyes fling open. The soldiers put a bullet through Prussia’s head.

He jerkily stands up, fighting to keep a neutral expression on his face. “Clean him up,” he forces out, nearly gagging at the sight. He then briskly walks out of the room.

 _“Nations are obedient,” Frank told him_.

Kazimir clenches his jaw.

_He’s an anomaly. It’s okay. It’s okay; Russia is obedient—just like Frank said._

Russia is standing next to him.

Kazimir is terrified.

“Go back to your room,” he orders. His voice sounds confident, at least.

Russia gives him a half-glare; then walks away, China following.

_I wonder if they know anything about Prussia, anything that could control him better._

_No. They’re pawns. I can’t ask them that. I can’t—_

“Wait!” Kazimir blurts out as they’re about to disappear around the corner.

They both stop and look at him.

“I need to ask some questions.”

* * *

  

(2 сентябрь 1950 года)

_2 September 1950_

It’s obvious Russia is in love with China.

At first, Kazimir wasn’t entirely sure, but God, the other day, the way he looked at him…

Kazimir is frightened, by both Russia and how fascinated he is. He doesn’t think anyone else notices, and the only reason he does is because he’s also in love with a man.

He’ll just observe for now. It’s not like his report specifically wants that information anyway.

Yeah…

* * *

   

> > **Дата Вход** : 01.02.15
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : If I had never sent Russia on that air raid mission, then Frank would be alive.
> 
> **Robert** : Why the hell are you messaging me about this
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I had a dream and wanted to talk to you.
> 
> **Robert** : Please don’t say shit like that
> 
> **Robert** : Wait, how early is it for you?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : 4 AM
> 
> **Robert** : Go back to bed.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : But you are the up and I am the up, so we should converse
> 
> **Robert** : “the up?”
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am tired.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : We could talk in Russian.
> 
> **Robert** : No thanks.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You should really learn the Italian since you are it.
> 
> **Robert** : Kazimir, this conversation has nothing to do with anything important and we really shouldn’t be using this messenger system unless it’s for that.
> 
> **Robert** : Go to bed
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I want to talk to you
> 
> **Robert** : Please stop sayint that
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I did not like that dream. Frank was in it and you were too but then you both disappeared but here you are so I am happy.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I see you were typing and then stopped but you are still online so fine we can discuss the plan if that will make you happy.
> 
> **Robert** : contractions are a thing, you know
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Now it is you are are changing the topic ;)
> 
> **Robert** : Don’t ever use that again
> 
> **Robert** : what is there to even talk about the next step isn’t supposed to happen for months now
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : We can talk about why I am doing it.
> 
> **Robert** : We really don’t have to.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I will dismantle the Nation system--both your program set up and the Sov Сетскийiet/Ru ссия
> 
> **Robert** : what
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The keyboard is having
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : .
> 
> **Robert** : These laptops are absolute shit
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : There. It is working again.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : They are very old be nice to them.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : If you really hate it, then you could come to the me and get a new one!
> 
> **Robert** : I am not having this fucking conversation again
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The plan started because of Frank and how system screwed him.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : But now it is bigger and now you are a part of it and without you--the group would not have been able to find those compounds or the information without you!
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : But now you are in danger and i do no understand why--Robert
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The Nations that we will get under are control-- the revenge we will get for Frank by fucking up entire system -- how nation advisors will be liberated-- seeing those other nations be trapped by a system we tried to help them escape but all they did was betray--we should be together to witness it. You should not remain a
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : lone
> 
> **Robert** : Go to bed, Kazimir.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Do you regret? Is that why? Should I stop message ? just like dream
> 
> **Robert** : no i
> 
> **Robert** : Don’t sotp messaging me
> 
> **Robert** : just only do it when you have something important to say or need to give me orders
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : This is important.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : And these Soviet servers are secure.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You are still online you can wait to respond but I still see you there.
> 
> **Robert** : What do you want me to say?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Think about joining me
> 
> **Robert** : I’ll have to throw everything away
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The moment you got this job you already did
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Help me get revenge. For Frank. For you! Let’s do it together. In person!
> 
> **Robert** : You couldn’t have gotten this information without me being on the inside in the first place. This fucking plan wouldn’t have worked without that
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I know--but now it is moving past t that
> 
> **Robert** : I’m logging off
> 
> **Robert** : Message me when you’re actually well rested and in a clear state of mind
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am insulted I am in one
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I want to be with you
> 
> [ **Robert** отключается от системы]

* * *

 

(13 май 1971 года)

_13 May 1971_

“I guess this is the last time we’ll see each other before everything,” Frank murmurs. He’s 49 now, and Kazimir is 44.

Kazimir nods, refusing to make eye contact.

Off to the side of the alleyway they’re standing in, Robert lights his cigar, seeming impatient and acting jealous like he usually does. “We have to go soon. Stop speaking Polish and hurry up.”

“Fuck off, Robert,” Kazimir spits in English, not in the mood to deal with him.

A vein begins to form on Robert’s forehead. “Listen—”

“Calm down, both of you,” Frank says in English, cutting him off.

They glare at each other; then look away.

Kazimir relaxes, though, when Frank places his hand on his shoulder.

They make eye contact. “Promise to be careful,” Frank murmurs in Polish.

“I’ll be fine. We have a deal and both know the terms.”

Frank bites his lip. “Okay.”

“You’re the one who insisted on doing this, you know.”

Now Frank looks guilty. “I’m—”

“But it’s fine,” Kazimir rushes out, hating it when his depression takes hold. “It’s certainly made my life more interesting, and I’ve gotten perks out of it—money, information, free time to see you…all thanks to the bribes Russia’s given me.”

_Those bribes are also because he’s afraid that I’ll reveal to other officials that he’s in love with China, but you don’t need to know that._

Frank breathes deeply, dropping his hand. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. I’m worrying about nothing.”

They stare at each other until Kazimir’s eyes fall to Frank’s lips. He forces himself to look away.

“I’ll—I’ll contact you a week after the breakout,” Frank blurts out. “I’ll call that number you gave us.”

“Frank, you know I have to call first for security reasons.”

He blinks; then gives a nervous smile. “Yeah, shit, I forgot. Sorry, it’s just—you’re—you’re like, the only family I have. You’re a brother to me. And I—I can’t lose you.”

Kazimir’s stomach twists into a knot. “Brother, yeah. You—same. It’s the same for me.”

They stare at each other again.

Frank has aged. These past years, his depression and anxiety, coupled with the stress of his job, have caused him to age rapidly and gain weight.

Kazimir is still in love with him, though.

_Pathetic._

Robert drops his cigar, his glare increasing. “Any day now. The Nation UN meeting is almost over.”

Frank looks torn.

“I will be fine,” Kazimir says in English.

“Jesus, _that’s_ what you two were talking about?”

Kazimir opens his mouth to make a retort, but he’s cut off by Frank pulling him into an embrace. He makes a noise of surprise.

Frank pats him; then moves away.

“Wait,” Kazimir blurts out in Polish, his heart beating erratically.

Frank looks at him.

The words tumble out of his mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

He seems confused, and now Kazimir feels like an idiot. “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“Sure.”

Kazimir is frozen. “Sure?”

“I don’t mind. Just don’t—it’s fraternal, right? That’s what you do in Russia?”

Kazimir swallows. “Yeah.”

He shuffles forward. Now Robert seems even more annoyed. “The hell are you two doing now?”

Frank stands there as stiff as a board, and Kazimir approaches him, nearly shaking. Then quickly, oh so quickly, he leans in and pecks him on the lips.

Robert’s expression twists.

Kazimir forces himself to act normally. “I will talk to you soon,” he blurts out in English.

Frank nods.

“Come on,” Robert says impatiently, seeming weirded out. “Really. He’s going to be fine.”

Frank sighs, following him, and Kazimir watches the two of them disappear.

It’s the last time they ever see each other.

* * *

 

(16 июль 1955 года) 

_16 July 1955_

Kazimir is in Switzerland for a summit involving the ‘Big Four’—the Soviet Union, the United States, Great Britain, and France. Worsening relations between China and the USSR prompted Mao to send Chinese diplomats too, as a symbolic gesture, or something.

The Chinese Nation Avatar is here as well. Kazimir gets the ‘great’ duty of babysitting him and Russia.

They’re at the Soviet Embassy, and he’s bored out of his mind.

He’s also stressed, thinking about the latest letter exchange. He sometimes questions why he’s doing it, this breakout plan, but then remembers that Frank wants to fuck up the system, so…

Also, Russia gives him bribes, which is a plus.

 _Shit, where even is he and China_?

Kazimir wanders through the building. The embassy’s pretty empty, and mostly everyone here is sleeping. Eventually, though, he spots a door to a small meeting room that’s cracked open and pokes his head inside.

China is straddling Russia.

Kazimir nearly smacks his head against the door. Russia is sitting down, and China is on top of his lap, his arms slung over Russia’s neck, Russia’s wrapped around his waist. They’re whispering to each other, and from Kazimir’s angle it looks like both of them are aroused.

He’s rooted into place when China leans forward, his long hair swaying back and forth. Russia’s breathing becomes more rapid. He murmurs something indistinguishable, something sounding far too close to a prayer. In response, China brushes his lips over his forehead.

Russia makes a whimpering noise and pulls him into a kiss. China doesn’t hesitate.

_Oh._

_Oh—_

Kazimir realizes he’s becoming aroused, gets startled, and loses his balance. He hits the door, causing it to swing open with a loud bang; then bolts out of sight just in time to see Russia and China scramble away from each other.

He hides around the corner, his heart beating erratically.

China says something in Mandarin.

“I don’t think it was that,” Russia mutters.

China replies.

“But what if—”

China says something.

Russia breathes out. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

China walks out of the room, down the hallway, and out of sight.

Before Kazimir can move, Russia is right in front of him.

“I can sense your presence,” he growls, his eyes flashing red.

Kazimir scrambles up. Thankfully, the adrenaline rush cured his erection. He tries to act arrogant. “I see in your free time you like to be a faggot.”

Russia’s scowl deepens.

Kazimir feels like he’s going to vomit. He smirks instead. “I won’t tell anyone. But only if I can get something in return.”

“I fucking hate you.”

* * *

    

> > **Дата Вход** : 04.04.15
> 
> **Robert** : congrats
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : ?
> 
> **Robert** : you made the news
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I orchestrated two bombing attacks on Russian and American embassies. I would be surprised if I did not make the news.
> 
> **Robert** : well; did you get the correct information?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : yes. Thanks to the help of my followers, we now know both locations where the Nations are being kept. We will orchestrate a break out now.
> 
> **Robert** : Don’t say followers. That’s creepy
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Followers.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : ;)
> 
> **Robert** : if I could strangle you right now I would
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : ;) you messaged me first

* * *

 

(2 aпрель 1971 года)

_2 April 1971_

They leave him wriggling on the ground, screaming, sitting in his own piss.

He thinks of Frank.

He has to survive. For him, for—

He’s bleeding, though. He’s bleeding, and it hurts to move. The mafia members also left. He’s alone, and all the workers here are dead. He didn’t know that Russia and China would kill them. And he didn’t mean to threaten Russia, but he got scared when they just kept murdering every—

The building explodes.

* * *

     

> > **Дата Вход** : 17.04.15
> 
> **Robert** : They suspect me
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Follow orders and be compliant. Do not give them reason to doubt you.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : They will not hurt you if you are truthful.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You cannot be hurt
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You are good actor, so I know you can do it.
> 
> **Robert** : Jesus, I get it, calm down
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : If you just complied and decided to come join me, we would not have to go through this mess.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Robert
> 
> **Robert** : it wold have been complicated regardless
> 
> [ **Robert** отключается от системы]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the picture i had commissioned (from rynisyou.tumblr.com) for AWH and added it here cause it was the same scene. 
> 
> Other things to comment on:
> 
> Clipboard man and his assistant finally have names!
> 
> Казими́р is ‘Kazimir’ written in the Russian alphabet
> 
> ;;o/ Thanks for reading


	9. Confusion

_18\. April 2015_  

The room is silent.

“Get your stuff and come with me,” the American man says impatiently.

“How are we even going to move Alfred and Ivan!?” South Korea shouts, clearly hating this guy.

“I don’t know; figure something out!”

Prussia scrambles to get his stuff. Even though Ilse gave him his pain meds, he nearly keels over when he stretches just a little too far to grab his bag.

He’s suddenly surrounded.

“Are you okay?” Germany rushes out.

Prussia grits his teeth. “I’m fine.”

“Here, I’ll get your stuff,” Austria says, haphazardly grabbing everything.

Hungary, meanwhile, goes to Prussia’s side to support him. He angrily swats her away, swept up in a world of confusion. None of this makes any sense. Kazimir was in the building when it fucking _exploded_. And now he’s still alive and organizing major terrorist attacks!? Why are Hungary and Austria on the list for the most involved too!?

France, Canada, and Spain are at the end of the aisle, and Prussia shuffles out of it with Hungary, Austria, and Germany flanking him. Near the stage, England and Japan are trying to prop up America. He only seems half-conscious. Russia isn’t any better. South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China are struggling with him as well.

His eyes then abruptly open when China drags him to his feet, both bright red, and everyone around Prussia flinches. He realizes Russia’s presence must be expanding.

“Any day now,” the American man barks.

South Korea looks like he’s about to walk over and strangle him.

Ilse seems nervous. “I can get a wheelchair—”

“There’s no time for that,” the American man snaps. “We need to act as quickly as possible before they change their mind.”

“Ivan, can you walk?” China quietly urges. “Yong-Soo and I can support you.”

“I feel like I’m going to vomit,” he mutters.

China and South Korea sling their arms over his shoulders, exerting their strength to drag him. Their eyes turn bright red as Canada grabs America’s phone. The music cuts off, leaving the room eerily silent.

“Come on,” Ilse pleads, startling Prussia. She grabs his arm and tugs him forward, only giving him a brief moment to make eye contact with Germany.

“Why are Austria and Hungary on the list?” he hisses when they get into the hallway.

“They’re just here for the time being; I thought it would help. Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

Ilse doesn’t respond. Their pace is slow; if they went any faster, America and Russia wouldn’t be able to keep up.

The clean air in the hallway would help Prussia feel better, but absolutely all of that is negated by the Swiss soldiers they pass. The men seem extremely agitated, and several actually jump backwards when they see China and South Korea’s eyes.

“I’m gonna throw up,” America moans after they make their way past them.

“Now?” Japan questions, his voice strained.

He retches. England and Japan jump back while Canada runs over, taking off his suit jacket to wipe his mouth.

“I’m not five,” America grumbles after Japan and England prop him up again.

Canada chucks his jacket.

“Wasn’t that expensive?” France murmurs. He seems out of it.

“We need to keep going,” the American man spits before Canada can respond.

Ilse is still grabbing Prussia’s arm, and it’s starting to hurt. He tries to move, but she must think he’s trying to run away or something because she grips it harder.

“Ilse,” he pathetically whimpers.

She realizes what she’s doing and drops his arm like it electrocuted him.

“Are you okay?” Hungary suddenly breathes into his ear. She and Austria have moved closer.

Prussia nods. Austria stares at him. A woman sees them and practically sprints away.

“Can you two tone it down a bit?” the American man hisses, twisting his head to South Korea and China.

“Robert, it’s fine,” Ilse urges.

Taiwan and Hong Kong suddenly blink in recognition as America lifts his head. His pupils are dilated.

“Robert is here?”

Japan quickly steers him as far away from the American man as possible. “Don’t worry about it.”

When they get outside, the heat instantly hits them. Even though it’s late, it’s still really humid and at least 30º.

“Pick a car,” Robert practically barks, gesturing to the two vans parked in front of them.

“Do you know who the American man is?” Spain mutters into Prussia’s ear when everyone starts to move.

Prussia shakes his head, noticing Ilse pulling Austria and Hungary aside for whatever reason. “You?”

“No, and Francis has absolutely no fucking clue either.”

“The Asian Nations seem to know him.”

Spain sighs.

“Is Francis okay?” Prussia asks. They’ve barely had a chance to talk to each other.

“I don’t know. He’s been, like, really dazed, especially after his panic attack. I think he’s blaming himself. Arthur’s also been distracted by America, so that hasn’t helped, but Canada’s been comforting—”

“Which car are you taking?” France dully asks.

They look at them. China and South Korea are pulling Russia to one.

“Not there,” Prussia mutters. He then looks at Austria and Hungary again and can’t help but walk over when he sees them still with Ilse.

“What are you talking about?”

Ilse rubs her face. “Nothing. Come on; go to the cars.”

Prussia frowns. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Just pick a car, Gilbert.”

He’s about to argue until Austria pulls him away.

They end up in the same one France and Spain head to—he, Austria, and Hungary squished in the back row.

“Alfred can’t ride in the same car as Ivan,” Japan spits, sounding absolutely frazzled when both Spain and France are about to climb in.

Spain looks like he’s about to argue.

“Here, I’ll go,” England says with a huff.

France grabs his arm. “N-No.”

England blinks. France steps back.

“Okay, fine. I’ll ride with them,” Spain grumbles, walking away. “Canada needs a friend anyway.”

“Hong Kong and I are BFFs,” he mutters, following him.

America woozily climbs into the car and ends up on the left. Japan sits next to him, England on his other side. France, meanwhile, takes the seat right in front of England. His arm’s slung over the headrest, and he and England are holding hands.

“What were you talking about with Ilse?” Prussia mumbles to Austria and Hungary.

“Nothing,” Hungary whispers, averting eye contact.

Prussia feels himself getting annoyed. “Bullshit.”

Ilse opens the car door and climbs into the driver’s seat before she can respond.

“We’re going to a hotel,” she announces, throwing a large purse backward. Japan catches it.

He looks confused. “Why—”

“It’s empty. If America needs to throw up again, he can do it in there.”

Prussia’s head is spinning as he looks out the window. He sees Robert take the wheel of the other car.

“Is there, like, a spare change of clothes wherever we’re going?” America moans. “I’m sick of being practically naked.”

Ilse starts the engine. “Maybe.”

Prussia expects a soldier or something to accompany them, maybe in another vehicle, but they pull out of the UN building without any interruptions.

“I feel carsick,” America whimpers after a few minutes. His head’s on Japan’s shoulder.

“You weren’t nauseous earlier,” Japan murmurs.

England frowns. “It could just be a late reaction to whatever they injected him with.”

“We should be at the hotel shortly, so don’t worry,” Ilse says, looking into the rearview mirror. “You won’t be carsick for long.”

“Not with this traffic,” France mutters, pointing with his free hand.

“Shit.”

Ilse slams on the brakes, and Prussia lurches forward. Austria throws out his arm so that he doesn’t faceplant the seat in front of him.

“You okay?”

Prussia nods. Before he can say anything, though, Ilse’s phone rings.

She hastily pulls it out of her pocket. “Yeah?”

Her speaker’s loud enough that Prussia can hear Robert’s response. “I think the streets are backed up because of government officials at the hotel. They probably just kicked everyone out.”

“Is that even legal?”

“God only knows, but all this traffic is probably the vacationers.”

“Shit,” Ilse repeats.

“Know any detour routes?”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to sit here.”

“Fuck you,” South Korea sneers in the background.

“I don’t know Korean, but that didn’t sound nice.”

Ilse hangs up the phone and leans backward. “Sorry, everyone.”

America throws up in her purse.

* * *

 

It takes thirty minutes to get to a hotel only five kilometers away.

When they finally pull up, a disgruntled hotel employee greets them. Things get somewhat awkward, though, when America and Russia step out of their cars wearing nothing but underwear.

Prussia turns to Hungary and Austria again as Ilse and Robert talk to the staff. “ _Seriously,_ what did you and Ilse discuss?”

Hungary seems annoyed. “Nothing, Gil.”

“Well, obviously it wasn’t ‘nothing’ if you don’t want to tell me!”

“Gilbert,” Austria murmurs, trying to calm him down.

“You two shouldn’t be here,” Prussia says, his eyes filling up with tears for no apparent reason. He blames it on his exhaustion. “You—You were barely involved, Roderich, and Elizabeta, you were just a victim—”

They pull him into an embrace.

Robert barely gives him any time to sort out his emotions, though. “Inside, now,” he barks.

As soon as they enter, Prussia can tell the place doesn’t have air conditioning. The staff shows them to a singular room, and once they make it there after walking at an agonizingly slow pace, Robert and Ilse gesture all of them inside.

They then lock the fucking door.

Prussia is so dazed it takes him a few moments to process what just happened.

“Did they lock us in here?” Hong Kong asks, sounding offended.

Taiwan goes to the door and jiggles the handle. It doesn’t budge. “…Yeah.”

There’s one bed, and it’s tiny. The room, also modestly sized, is laid out so the bed is in the middle, facing the TV, with two armchairs on either side of it. The bathroom is in a hallway behind the TV, and there’s a closet right next to the door. There are also windows on the far side of the bed.

Canada tries to open them.

They’re bolted shut.

It hasn’t even been a minute, and Prussia is sweating.

“Let’s put them on the bed,” China mumbles, referring to America and Russia.

Russia makes a face. “It’s too small.”

The bed really is tiny. The two of them have to be squished together for both of them to fit.

“I’ll lie on the floor, please,” America moans.

“Fuck you,” Russia sneers, slurring it.

“You’re all sticky.”

“So are you!”

Prussia feels a bead of sweat roll down his back. He takes off his suit jacket.

Japan fidgets. “They need a shower,” he murmurs to China, ignoring America’s complaints.

“Is there one?”

“Why is it so hot in here?” Hong Kong complains after the two disappear to the bathroom.

“Because it’s the middle of the summer,” South Korea mutters.

Hong Kong gives him a look; then takes off his jacket. He chucks it to the ground.

Everyone else does the same.

“I feel like I’m going to get heat stroke,” Hungary mumbles, moving next to Prussia.

He feels lightheaded. “Me too.”

Hungary frowns. “Listen, Gil; the conversation wasn’t really about anything. Ilse just told us to take care of you for the time being and said that we… wouldn’t be staying here for long.”

“What does that even mean?”

She sighs. “I don’t know.”

Austria moves next to Prussia and leans against him.

“It’s too hot for this,” he mutters half-heartedly.

“Yeah,” Austria agrees. His eyes are closed.

“Yao,” Russia whimpers. “Get me off this bed.”

“Kiku and I are trying to figure out how to set up the shower for you two,” China calls from the bathroom.

“Do you think there are wiretaps in here?” France murmurs to Canada and England after the other two start moving stuff around.

Canada shrugs. “Could be. They took the time to nail the windows shut.”

“Does it matter at this point?” Spain mumbles. He then blinks and turns to Prussia. “Hey, why were you taken out of the assembly room earlier?”

South Korea collapses on the armchair next to America.

Prussia swallows. “Uh.”

There’s a loud crash from the bathroom.

America abruptly sits up, almost knocking Russia off the bed. “Kiku?”

“We’re fine,” Japan says quickly. “Stuff just fell off a shelf.”

South Korea frowns. “Alfred, you’re—we’re safe here,” he awkwardly mumbles after America squirms. “So don’t worry. It’s okay, alright?”

“…”

He tries to push him back down after England mumbles something, but America abruptly grabs his hand.

“Um.”

“Are you sure?” he whimpers. “That—That we’re safe?”

“Shut up,” Russia grumbles.

South Korea nods. “Yeah…”

China and Japan choose that moment to exit the bathroom.

South Korea is still holding America’s hand, and that’s immediately what Japan’s eyes are drawn towards. The look of rage on his face is enough to make South Korea wriggle out of America’s grasp and scramble off the chair. He ends up next to Prussia. While this is happening, Japan storms over to America, then gently takes his hand like nothing’s wrong.

“He’s really loopy now,” Taiwan explains, sounding weary.

Japan doesn’t respond. Instead, he murmurs something to America, who gives him a dopey grin in response.

China ignores them and walks over to Russia. “You’re going to bathe first,” he says tenderly.

“How?” Russia slurs. “I can’t even stand on my own.”

“There’s a ledge in the shower. You can sit there, and I’ll wash you.”

Russia sighs as China props him into a sitting position.

“Do you need any help?” South Korea warily asks.

“He’s not touching me,” Russia spits.

China gives a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

It takes a bit, but eventually, the two hobble into the bathroom.

Prussia is still sweating. He’s seriously considering taking off his slacks when Hong Kong grabs the remote and turns on the TV.

Taiwan shuffles over to Hungary. “Elizabeta, do you have a hair tie?”

Hungary frowns. “Unfortunately, no.”

“YAO!”

“What!?”

“DO YOU HAVE A HAIR TIE?”

“I only have one, and I’m using it!”

Taiwan throws her head back and groans.

Prussia sits down, his legs aching from standing for so long. Others do the same as Hong Kong flips through all the channels. He’s next to Taiwan, angling himself away from England. Not that England really notices him since he’s too busy soothing France, but.

They mindlessly watch a soap opera that Spain insults for a couple of minutes until Hungary decides she’s had enough of the heat. She starts unbuttoning her blouse.

It causes a mixed reaction.

There’s a chorus of, “What are you doing?” followed by everyone hastily turning their heads away except for Austria and Prussia, who both tell her to stop.

She scrunches up her eyebrows. “Why? It’s hot as hell in here, I’m wearing a bra for Christ’s sake, and most of you are gay anyway, so.”

There are a couple of things everyone knows, yet never says out loud.

Sexualities are one of them.

“I’m attracted to women,” Prussia blurts out first.

“I would hope so since I’m dating you.”

And relationships are another.

“Though I’m not a woman,” Hungary reminds him, further unbuttoning her shirt.

South Korea seems flustered. He’s sitting near Taiwan and Hong Kong now. “Then what are you?”

Hungary shrugs. “Not a woman.”

“I, for one,” France says dully. “Am perfectly straight.”

“I actually am,” Hong Kong mutters as Spain snorts. England, meanwhile, fidgets.

Hungary grins and takes off her shirt. “Look, boobs.”

Eventually, the shower water turns off.

“Yao, please.”

“No, you’re not putting that underwear back on.”

“I’m not going out there with my dick exposed!”

“I’ll wrap you in a towel. You’ll be fine.”

“Your bra is pretty,” Taiwan mumbles to Hungary, sounding shy, almost.

She grins. “Thank you! I spent way too much money on it.”

South Korea still looks uncomfortable.

“What, never seen boobs before?”

That seems to offend him. “I’ve seen—I’m like, 2,000 years old. I’ve seen boobs.”

The heat combined with the steam leaking from under the bathroom door causes everyone else to start undressing. It’s just as China shuffles in with Russia, though.

He furrows his brow. “Um.”

“We got hot,” Hong Kong mutters.

Japan, still in all his clothes, props America up.

China is only wearing his dress shirt and boxers, and both are soaked. “I recommend undressing before helping America bathe,” he says as he helps Russia lie down.

“I’ll be fine,” Japan mutters, guiding America to the bathroom.

“What the hell are we watching?” Russia mutters after a bit, sounding more like his usual self.

“A shitty soap opera,” Canada ends up responding.

“ _Why?_ ”

South Korea turns to him, cutting off his conversation with Hong Kong. “Because there are five things on.”

“Don’t argue,” China interrupts when Russia opens his mouth. South Korea mutters something.

They continue watching the show in silence until Japan and America come out of the bathroom. America is wrapped in a towel and is putting all of his weight on him.

While glancing at them, Prussia happens to see the clock.

It’s midnight, somehow.

America collapses on the bed, pressed up against Russia, who doesn’t seem overly thrilled about it. Once he’s situated, Japan sits on the armchair next to him. He doesn’t bother removing his clothes.

South Korea is clearly getting cranky. “You can take off your shirt, you know. Everyone else here is naked.”

Japan opens his mouth.

“But I guess you’re too embarrassed about your scar, aren’t you?”

“Yong-Soo, enough,” China snaps.

“I think we should try to sleep,” Taiwan blurts out before either of the three can say anything else.

China rubs his face. “Where?”

“On the ground? Uh, you and Kiku can take the chairs.”

South Korea fidgets. “Why, because they’re—”

“Go to sleep, Yong-Soo.”

Before they lie down, they try to clean themselves up, but most of their attempts are futile. They then stake out their spots and adjust themselves as needed.

Eventually, Spain turns off the lights.

* * *

 

 _19. April 2015_  

Prussia’s had sleepless nights before.

Tonight may be one of the worst.

It’s currently 3 AM. No one’s asleep except for Russia and America, but that’s not stopping the rest of them from pretending like they are.

The heat, magically, has gotten worse. Prussia isn’t even moving and he’s sweating. His back is also killing him. The ground is far from soft, and it’s been a while since he’s taken his pain meds.

But it’s not like he can just stand up and proclaim, _“Hey! I have cancer, so can I take one of the chairs?”_

Someone fidgets.

Unfortunately, lying between Austria and Hungary isn’t helping. Granted, having them there is comforting, but now he can’t needlessly shift—

There’s a loud bang in the hallway.

America starts screaming. Prussia scrambles up, flinching when Spain flips on the lights, and sees Japan grabbing his shoulders.

His screams eventually fade into heavy breathing, and after a bit, he leans forward and presses his face into Japan’s chest.

Japan speaks. “Alfred.”

He vomits.

Everyone freezes while Japan instantly takes off his shirt in one fluid motion, throwing it into the nearby trashcan.

“Fuck, sorry,” America moans, his voice cracking.

“It’s okay,” Japan rushes out.

“You better not have gotten any vomit on the bed,” Russia mutters at the same time. He’s nearly hanging off it, and China is grabbing his arm to prevent him from falling.

“Shut up, Ivan,” America spits back. His red eyes are fading back to their usual blue.

England cautiously stands. “You—You sound back to normal. How are you feeling?”

America hangs his head. “I just woke up screaming and puked on Kiku.”

“It’s fine,” Japan repeats, his voice cracking.

“Are you still nauseous?” England asks, coming closer.

America is pale. “A little.”

Japan starts shaking, and he instantly reacts, leaning forward to pull him into a hug.

“You—the nightmares stopped, and now—I don’t want you to go through this again. It was over; it was _over_.”

“It will be okay, Kiku.” America smiles pathetically. “A-Okay.”

Japan starts crying.

They curl into each other. Russia tries to scoot away as much as he can, but it doesn’t really matter at this point. The two seem oblivious. The rest of them are staring, unsure what to do and desperately trying not to gawk at Japan’s scar.

Even though all these years have passed, it still looks nasty.

South Korea stands. Taiwan makes a noise like she’s afraid he’s going to do something brash, but all he does is grab the trashcan and take it to the bathroom.

Hong Kong sighs, getting up to retrieve the remote. He freezes, though, when England meets him halfway to hand it over.

“Thank you,” he mumbles in English, clearly as a reflex.

England grunts in response.

The awful soap opera begins playing again as Japan calms down. He’s no longer breathing erratically.

Now sitting up, Prussia’s back feels much better. It’s still aching, but the pain’s manageable. He attempts to rub it discreetly. Hungary notices, though.

“Does it hurt?” she murmurs.

Prussia gets defensive. “No.”

“Mine does,” Austria mutters. “This floor is hard.”

Prussia relaxes a bit. “Yeah, it’s uncomfortable.”

“I miss my bed.”

“I miss your bed too.”

The shower turns on.

Next to Prussia, Spain chides France. “You almost kicked me in the face.”

France appears more like his usual self rather than the emotional zombie he was only a couple of hours ago. England is next to him again. “I may move around a lot, but at least I don’t snore like you.”

Spain laughs. “Okay, yeah.”

They’re all deliberately giving America and Japan some space. Prussia watches them out of the corner of his eye, though. Right now, America is murmuring something. Their foreheads are pressed together.

The shower turns off.

America slowly stands up; Japan pressed against his side. They then hobble over to the armchair and cram themselves into it. Japan is basically in his lap. America’s towel is also looking dangerously loose, but neither seems to notice.

South Korea walks out of the bathroom and drops the clean trashcan next to them. “Kiku, your shirt is air drying,” he mutters.

“…Thanks.”

South Korea looks at America. “You still nauseous?”

He grimaces. “A bit, but I think…whatever they injected is finally getting out of my system.”

“You were fine at first and then got really loopy.”

“Yeah, I don’t…remember much.” America scrunches up his eyebrows. “Did Gangnam Style play at one point or am I hallucinating that?”

“Unfortunately, it did.”

“Wait,” Taiwan blurts out. “Sorry, I—do you know why suit man is here?”

America looks baffled. “Suit man?”

“Yeah, that asshole is back,” South Korea mutters.

“Why is he—what?”

“Who the hell is suit man?” Canada asks.

“The American advisor,” Hong Kong mumbles.

“Wait, Alfred, how come they know who the fuck he is, and we don’t?”

America’s eyebrows are pinched together. “He became my advisor at the end of the Korean War and when I was in Asia a lot, so that’s—he’s really here?”

“He’s the one that shot you, you know,” South Korea spits.

“What?”

“With the poison bullet.”

America looks even more confused. “Oh.”

“This man and Prussia’s advisor took us here,” England says. “Why would he help with that? And who are Radzinski and Gorelov, and why the hell were they involved in the plan with him?”

“ _Excuse me_?”

The mention of Kazimir’s name causes Russia to look like he just swallowed bile. America’s skin is getting paler.

“I—I don’t know why they’re involved. I still don’t know why F-Frank—”

“Who _is_ Frank Radzinski?”

“He was America’s first advisor who randomly showed up when we were in Pennsylvania; then committed suicide,” Canada says, looking agitated. “Al, why would this ‘suit man’ also—”

“Wait, _excuse me_?”

Something seems to click in France’s mind. “Matthieu, is this why you weren’t there in Philadelphia?”

“Why did he kill himself?” England demands when Canada looks away.

Now Russia and China seem nauseous. “Because he thought we killed Kazimir Gorelov,” China mutters.

“Who the hell is that!? And why is he causing terrorist attacks now!?”

“He was my Nation Advisor,” Russia spits out. “At the same time as America’s first one. I guess they knew each other and were exchanging information.”

That thought doesn’t make Prussia feel great.

“Why were they helping?” France asks, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “Why did you get your Nation Advisors involved?”

America is gnawing on his lip. Japan rubs circles into his arm. “I didn’t even know Frank knew about the fucking plan until he showed up out of the nowhere.”

“Then why was the Russian man involved!?”

“I had to find _some way_ to exchange the letters,” Russia spits.

“Do you know why suit man would help you now?” Taiwan asks, her voice small. “Or that he even knew those two?”

America squeezes his eyes shut. “I—I don’t remember seeing any of them interact, but—I—Robert might be here because he.” He swallows. “Wait, he really helped with the plan?”

“Alfred, what did he do?” Japan asks.

“He—when I was being e-experimented on, he stepped in multiple times to—to stop it.”

South Korea furrows his brow. “ _Suit man_?”

“I feel nauseous again,” America blurts out.

“Why did you shoot Kazimir?” Prussia can’t help but ask as both Japan and South Korea scramble for the trashcan. “Don’t get me wrong, I hated that asshole, but he _was_ helping.”

“You shot him?” Canada asks.

Russia grips the blanket so that the whites of his knuckles are showing. China lays his hand on his arm and sighs. “He threatened to expose the plan. We had to kill everyone at the compound. We had to, otherwise…but he didn’t like that.”

“So I shot the fucker,” Russia spits. “I shot him twice, and he was in the compound when it exploded, but somehow he _lived_.”

“How did you even get him to agree to help you in the first place?” Canada asks. “Why the hell did two of America’s advisors also help!?”

“Bribe money,” Russia says through his teeth. “I don’t know about the two Americans, though.”

America drops the trashcan. “I—I don’t either. I swear to God I never saw any of them interact once.”

“What about the nukes?” Spain demands. “What the fuck is up with that?”

There’s a knock on the door before anyone can respond.

It’s Ilse who opens it, and they all stare at each other for a good moment.

“Holy shit, it’s hot in here,” she blurts out after walking inside.

Prussia stands up.

“I guess that’s why you’re all…practically naked.”

“What’s going on?” Prussia asks.

Ilse looks like she hasn’t slept at all. “Are those your suits on the ground over there?

Prussia glances at the pile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Yours was from Burberry.”

“Listen; when you’re shot at, manhandled, then thrown into a tiny hotel room with no AC, you really don’t give a shit about what you’re wearing anymore.”

“Why are you here?” Russia sneers in German.

Ilse flinches, and Prussia suddenly feels the need to defend her. “Leave her alone. She got us out of that stupid assembly room.”

“Because this change of environment is—”

“We found a better alternative,” Ilse blurts out.

Prussia scrunches up his eyebrows. “We?”

“Robert Donati and I. Apparently, one of Switzerland’s villas is nearby, so we’re going to take you there.”

They all stare at her.

“It’s not bugged,” she rambles. “In fact, no modifications have been done at all. We’re just going to take you there, and as long as you remain inside, you’ll be fine.”

“Why should we believe you?” South Korea asks in German.

Ilse fidgets. “I can understand why you wouldn’t, but I’m not—I’m not lying. I swear.”

“When are we leaving?” England also asks in German, standing up.

Ilse seems a bit more confident. “Whenever you’re ready. Robert’s looking for some cars right now.”

“Ivan and I aren’t wearing any underwear,” America mutters in English, eyebrows furrowing at Robert’s name.

“Right,” she blurts out, bolting down the hallway.

“Ilse!?” Prussia calls worriedly. Everyone else is craning their heads.

She comes barreling down the hallway, haphazardly lugging four suitcases.

Prussia realizes one of them is his. “Is that—”

“Members of the German team and I went back to your hotel room and packed up everything. I guess it was convenient that Austria and Hungary’s stuff was there too. Um—I won’t ask.”

Their previous conversation is forgotten as they raid the suitcases. It’s amazing how little garments of clothing can make such a big difference. Shit, Taiwan gets a hair tie and nearly cries, and Prussia certainly feels better after he sneaks away and dry swallows some pain meds.

It takes them about fifteen minutes to get themselves situated. Afterward, they follow Ilse out into the hall, Russia leaning on China and America on Japan. The two seem stronger now, but they’re still weak.

The hallway is desolate.

“Where is everyone?” Prussia asks.

Ilse frowns. “Around.”

When they get to the outside lobby, there’s a bus that Robert’s leaning on.

America sees him and freezes.

“Alfred, it’s okay,” Japan attempts to say soothingly. He sounds on edge.

South Korea nods. “If that loser tries anything, I’ll—”

“You all changed your clothes,” Robert says, walking over.

“What are you doing here?” America blurts out.

Robert blinks. “You’re cognizant now. Congrats.”

He frowns.

Robert sighs. “Listen, I am planning on giving an explanation. But right now, it’s around 3:30 AM, and I still have shit to sort out. So we’ll talk tomorrow. Get on the bus.”

Ilse pulls Prussia to the side as everyone else walks forward. “I’m going to get you more of your pain medication,” she whispers to him. “You still have some left, right?”

“Why are Austria and Hungary here?” he breathes as a response.

She bites her lip and stares at the ground. “In retrospect, that wasn’t the best decision. Just at the time, when we didn’t know what would happen—”

“Ilse.”

“I’m sorry, Gilbert. They’ll leave soon.” With that, she bolts back to the hotel.

Prussia stands there, feeling like an idiot.

“Any day now,” Robert yells, digging his nails into his palm.

He grits his teeth and heads to the bus. It’s not gigantic, but it’s big enough that they can all fit comfortably.

He plops down in the seat between Austria and Hungary.

“Now what were _you_ talking about?” Hungary accuses in an almost joking manner, despite everything.

He sighs. “Ilse wouldn’t tell me why you two are here.”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

“Maybe we’ll learn more tomorrow,” Austria mumbles.

Prussia frowns.

 _Maybe_. 

* * *

 

Switzerland’s villa is huge.

They enter the property through a metal gate; then continue along a seemingly endless driveway.

“Apparently, there’s a lake here,” Robert mutters, more to himself.

Everyone is too exhausted to respond.

Robert gets out first after they pull up, brandishing a ring of keys. He unlocks the front door; then gestures inside as they all exit the bus. “Ilse and I will be here around 10 AM tomorrow.”

“Is there food inside?” Canada asks.

“Hell if I know.”

A cool gust of AC hits them as they enter, and everyone relaxes.

“Let’s just find some bedrooms and go to sleep,” England suggests after they stand aimlessly for a bit.

There are six, three of which have one king-sized bed. The others have two singles. Since there are fourteen of them, dividing up the rooms is slightly a pain.

Japan and America get one of the king-sized bedrooms, and China and Russia take the other. Prussia, Austria, and Hungary warily look at France and England to decide who’ll sleep in the last one.

“Francis, we can just push the two singles together,” England mutters. “Let them take the king.”

France sighs. “Fine.”

Hong Kong and Taiwan decide to room together, and Spain, Canada, and South Korea are left regarding each other awkwardly.

“I’m not sharing a bed,” South Korea blurts out.

Spain gives a weary smile. “It’s fine; I can sleep on the couch downstairs. I snore, so this way I won’t disturb you two.”

Canada and South Korea grunt.

They all climb into their respective beds and pass out.

* * *

 

Prussia opens the fridge. “Well, there’s cheese that expired a week ago.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Austria mutters.

Hungary looks in a cabinet. “I found some peanut butter that expired two years ago.”

Spain lays his head on the table and groans.

It’s 9:30 AM. They’re all awake and down in the kitchen for the most part, except for Taiwan since she’s still taking a shower. The combination of Switzerland’s random cosmetics, plus what Germany, Hungary, Austria, and Prussia packed, has allowed them to bathe.

Russia and America are a lot stronger now. They can walk without any help and no longer look sickly. They’re still weaker than normal, but at least they’re better.

Hong Kong fidgets with a chest. The lid seems stuck, and he becomes more and more aggressive until it flings open and nearly hits him in the face.

“Oh, well, there’s um, some alcohol in here,” he mutters.

That catches everyone’s attention.

“What kind?” France asks. He’s standing near Austria, next to England.

“Mostly wine. Fuck, this shit looks expensive.”

The words ‘Switzerland’ and ‘expensive’ don’t go together, so Prussia walks over to investigate.

“They look like gifts,” Hong Kong says as he gets closer.

“Great; so we have booze, two-year-old peanut butter, and expired cheese,” America mutters, his stomach growling. He’s sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of Canada and Japan.

Japan smiles warily. “Maybe Ilse and Robert will bring food with them.”

South Korea is playing with his phone. “They better.”

“There’s no entertainment technology here either,” Prussia says as Taiwan walks into the room, low-key hating this house. Hong Kong gestures her over to the chest in disbelief. “Like, the TV in the sitting room is from the 60s, and that computer we found looks like it’s from the 90s.”

“Don’t forget the VCR,” South Korea mutters.

“He has dial-up Internet too,” Japan mumbles.

There’s a knock. Russia and China, both in the attatched living room, move away on the couch as everyone else freezes.

“You guys awake?” Robert calls after the door opens.

“We’re in the kitchen,” America warily responds.

Robert comes into view.

“My God, you’re not wearing a suit,” South Korea deadpans in English.

“Surprisingly, I own other clothing.”

China and Russia join them.

“Do you have food?” Hungary asks in English. Prussia walks over to where she and Austria are standing.

Robert rubs his face. “Ilse is getting some and will be arriving shortly. I’m just here to answer some of your questions first.”

They all stare at him.

“So ask away…”

“How do you know Kazimir?” Russia growls.

Robert gives a wary smile. “We were…Nation Advisors at the same time.” He rubs his face. “Frank—uh, the Nation Advisor before me, stepped down from the position because he wanted to quit after the…dogfight between you and America in Korea. But there wasn’t a replacement for him, so that was an issue. That’s why there was a limbo period where there wasn’t any Nation Advisor until they found me. But anyway, when I came in, that’s when Kazimir and I met—”

“What do you mean by, ‘found you’?”

“Well, um. There’s a different process in every country for how Nation Advisors are selected, and circumstances vary, but Frank was recruited out of college. I was chosen, though, because Frank killed everyone in my family when he was drunk driving.”

“What?” America blurts out.

Robert starts to ramble. “I was seventeen. Frank was—he was drunk driving. My family was coming back from a restaurant. It was my parents’ twenty-year wedding anniversary. They—” Robert cuts himself off. “Frank drove through a red light and hit the side of our car. My older brother, younger sister, and father were instantly killed. My mother died in the hospital. I somehow survived, basically unharmed. Frank scooted by legal charges because he was the goddamn Nation Advisor, and then once the whole ordeal was over, he decided to make me his—he called it ‘apprentice.’ And it wasn’t like I had anywhere to go. My mother and father were Italian immigrants, and the rest of my family was back in Italy. I didn’t know who the hell they were.”

“…”

“And as his apprentice, I was constantly with him. I…I hated Frank at first, but eventually, all I felt was pity. He was a mess. He was just a goddamn mess. He tried to commit suicide once but somehow fucked up when hanging himself. But he lived that time. He didn’t leave—”

“What’s your relation to Kazimir?” Russia spits.

“K-Kazimir was also a mess, which led to him and Frank somehow being friends, and by extension, I came to know Kazimir, too. I…first met him at the Korean exchange.”

“Why the hell did you and the other American get involved with the plan?”

Robert squirms. “Frank was bored and hated his life, so he wanted to fuck around. Kazimir offered us part of your bribe money too.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“And life was great, and Frank and Kazimir were content with just screwing things up behind the scenes to get back ‘at the Nation Advisor system,’ or something. But then you—then you killed Kazimir. Or at least, Frank and I thought you did, which turned Frank into an enough of a psychotic mess that he decided to drive up to Pennsylvania and kill himself in front of you.” Robert then hesitates. “Where—How did he do it? Where did you even put the body?”

“Why did you never give anything away?” America mutters, ignoring his question. “Once the plan was over.”

Robert blinks, collecting himself. “What’s the point? If I did, then I’d also reveal I had a part.”

“And why did you help me? When I was…”

Robert gives a tired grin. “My life was pathetic. My entire family was dead. The only two friends I had were also deceased, or at least I thought they were, so I figured—I don’t know. It was a purpose. To help you.” He scratches the back of his head. “And here’s um, actually where the main issue comes in. I was able to stop the experiments on you, but I had to do it by introducing a new program. It’s still…ongoing, and it’s what Kazimir’s been meddling with recently—alongside this Russian one. It’s related to the Jordan Bombings.”

“Wait, before that,” Prussia blurts out. “Why the hell are Austria and Hungary here? I thought it was only the most involved Nations.”

Robert frowns. “Didn’t Ilse tell you? Isn’t it because you have cancer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /


	10. V. Juhaina? & Kazimir

(۲۰۱۵/۰٤/۰۸)

 _8 April 2015_  

Dalia frowns. “I mean…it could be worse.”

“Worse. Sure.”

“We’re not being dissected today?”

Juhaina’s stomach twists into a knot. She has to fight down the memories. “What an achievement!”

“They’ve—they’ve fed us this past week too, and we get to see each other now, so—it could be worse!”

“We’re both tied down to a hospital bed.”

“M-Minor details.”

“…”

“Don’t worry. I heard them talking outside of my cell. I think they’re just testing some sort of medicine today.”

“Well too late; I’m worrying,” Juhaina mumbles, resenting the anxiety climbing her throat.

“Try to be a little positive.”

“Try to be a little—Dalia; we’re about to be _experimented_ on.” Juhaina nearly chokes on the word. “We haven’t been outside in years, we’re prisoners to the Americans, we don’t know what’s going on in the outside world _at all_ —”

“It will work out.”

“Stop saying that,” Juhaina mutters, squeezing her eyes shut.

“At least we can chat right now,” Dalia whispers after a long pause. “…It’s been a while.”

“I know. Sorry.” She wants to savor the moment. She wants to stop worrying; she really does. But her head is pounding, and all she can muster is a feeling of patheticness.

There are voices from the hallway.

“Palestine and Israel are in here,” a woman says. “We’re about to test that new injection on them. It’s supposed to trigger their red eyes state because the compound in it is usually released when they’re exposed to a heightened sense of danger…” Her voice fades away.

“They…don’t care now,” Dalia whispers.

Juhaina opens her eyes. “What?”

“Like.” She fidgets. “They don’t even bother gagging us anymore! They talk freely. These people really don’t care. If there’s any reason to have hope, it’s that.”

Juhaina bites her lip. “Then how much longer will we be trapped here?”

Dalia smiles. “Not long because any day now the oh Mystical Uncle will swoop in and save us.”

He’s essentially become a superhero figure to them. Imagining the absurd scenarios in how he could save them is one of the few ways they manage to have fun.

Juhaina also cracks a small smile. “What, does he have heat vision this time?”

“No, instead he has the ability to shape shift.”

“Into what?”

“Dinosaurs.”

Despite everything, Juhaina laughs. She sees Dalia grin even wider.

Some more time passes. No one enters yet, though.

“What do you think the other Nations are doing?” Dalia eventually whispers again.

Juhaina hates that word, _Nations_. And though their interactions have been limited, she knows Dalia is aware she hates it.

“I don’t care,” she mumbles.

“Sorry—the other prisoners. What do you think they’re doing?”

“I still don’t care. You’re my only friend here.” Since arriving at this hellscape, she’s only had maybe sparing glances at the other prisoners while the scientists and workers have been nothing but evil, faceless entities.

Dalia blushes. “You’re my only friend too, but…I still wonder about the others. And care, you know?”

_No._

They get silent again.

Despite her anxiety, Juhaina quickly grows bored. She can’t really do much, so she studies her legs. The hair there is getting long.

Her vision blurs.

She knows that her hair everywhere is growing out of control. She can rarely practice self-grooming, and the people here certainly aren’t going to shave her. She hasn’t looked in a mirror in a while, but she can only imagine how bushy her eyebrows are.

It was nice before she hit puberty.

She’s around sixteen now. She thinks. She doesn’t know how many years have passed, but she’s probably sixteen. Yeah. Even if Dalia thinks they’re _thirty_ , she knows they’re sixteen. That much time couldn’t have passed!

Shit, she’s feeling nauseous now, and that’s never a great way to start off being experimented on.

She swallows and turns her head to look at Dalia. Her hair is also growing out of control. While Juhaina’s has gone straight down, Dalia’s curly mop has expanded outward. It looks like there’s a bush on her head.

Juhaina fidgets. There are voices in the hallway again, but they’re inaudible.

“What’s taking them so long?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“Maybe they’re calling off the experiment?”

Juhaina chews her lip.

“Or maybe,” Dalia mumbles. “Your uncle just broke in using his dinosaur powers.”

Juhaina plays along again, willing her headache to go away. “What, is he ramming through the metal walls?”

“Yeah, and then he’ll—”

There’s an explosion.

Dalia shrieks. Juhaina feels her body lock up.

“What was that?” she asks, her ears ringing as absolute dead silence takes over.

Dalia fights a frightened expression off her face. “The dinosaur?”

Another explosion.

Juhaina doesn’t know when she starts thrashing at her restraints, but—She has to take cover. Where’s her mother? Are Samir and her father still at the beach? Her head is tight. She can’t breathe.

“Juhaina!” Dalia screams. “You—You’re having a panic attack! You need to—”

More explosions.

All Juhaina can see is the policeman tugging at her mother’s coat or the bathroom where she heard the missile.

_Why did I have to go pee?_

“J-Juhaina!”

_Why couldn’t I have died with them?_

_Why, why, why—_

Suddenly, she can feel Dalia’s presence. Her eyes are red. Is she—

Gunshots.

Juhaina’s world is spinning when Dalia uses her brute strength to snap not only her leather restraints but Juhaina’s as well.

Another explosion.

Juhaina can’t breathe. “Wh-What’s going on?”

Dalia frantically embraces her. “I don’t know. I don’t—The dinosaurs. It’s them.”

She’s shaking. Juhaina trembles and grips her back.

Another explosion.

Juhaina nearly chokes on her own spit. “Dali—”

The door opens.

Her heart almost stops. Standing there is this—this person. They’re dressed in black clothing, wearing a bulletproof vest and a gas mask, and are brandishing a machine gun.

Juhaina and Dalia are silent, scared shitless. Down the hall, they can hear multiple people screaming.

It’s far worse than any dinosaurs.

“Who are you?” Juhaina blurts out, her heart beating erratically.

There are gunshots in the distance.

The person removes their gas mask, revealing their bright red eyes. “My name is Mongolia.”

“Dalia,” Dalia nearly yells. “I’m—I’m Dalia. And that’s Juhaina.” Mongolia raises their eyebrow. Dalia panics. “P-Please don’t hurt us. We’re just—we don’t know what’s going on.”

Mongolia frowns. Juhaina’s eyes lock onto the blood splatters decorating their clothing.

“I’m not going to—are those code names?” Mongolia asks. They seem to be Juhaina and Dalia’s age.

_whichissixteennotthirtywhoareyouwhatareyougoingto_

“They’re our names,” Dalia chokes out.

Mongolia stares at them; then turns toward the door. Their eyes are fading to a normal color. “Alright, whatever. Follow me, Israel and Palestine.”

“Dalia and Ju—”

“Do you think I care?”

Juhaina is shaking. “W-Why should we follow you?”

Alarms are sounding. She only notices them now.

Mongolia looks at her. “Because we’re breaking you out?”

“Breaking us out?” Dalia repeats, sounding dazed. Juhaina’s ears pop.

“Yeah, come on.”

They’re frozen.

Mongolia seems impatient. “Listen,” they start off with. For the life of her, Juhaina can’t determine this person’s gender. People are still shrieking in the background. “If you don’t want to stay here, then come with me.”

Someone else runs up to the doorway. They take off their mask, and Juhaina can see that it’s another girl their age. “What’s the holdup?”

“It’s fine, Kazakhstan, they’re coming.”

“Oh, okay. Well, floor one is all clear, so Croatia should be—”

“Floor one is all clear,” an emotionless voice says through an earpiece both Mongolia and Kazakhstan are wearing.

Juhaina has absolutely no idea what that means and is petrified.

Another Nation walks up to the door almost casually, eyes bright red. Her gas mask is off, and she’s smiling, dragging a bloody woman with her. “This them?” she cheerily asks.

Juhaina jumps off the bed and backs up until she’s pressed against the wall. Dalia follows, clenching onto her arm.

Mongolia glares at them while Kazakhstan gives a wary smile. “We’re not going to hurt you, fellow Nations.”

“Hey, do you want to kill this American woman?” the girl in the hallway calls. “I’m sure that’ll make you feel better!”

Juhaina nearly chokes on her own spit when the woman whimpers in response.

Dalia steps in front of her. “No—No thanks. Let’s just leave.”

 _We’re going_ with _them!?_

“Aw, but someone’s gotta kill her.”

Kazakhstan glares. “Kyrgyzstan, enough. They’re clearly frightened.” She opens her mouth to argue. Kazakhstan ignores her. “Come on, Palestine and Israel, let’s go.”

Kyrgyzstan groans dramatically. “ _Fine_. I guess I’ll do it.”

“You’re really embracing this job right now,” Mongolia mutters.

“Oh shut—”

“Please,” the American woman suddenly whimpers in English, startling everyone. Her words are slurred. “Please don’t kill me. I didn’t ask to be stationed here. No one did. Please!”

_Let her live._

All of the workers have been faceless entities. Juhaina should hate them. She does hate them.

But—

“Let’s go,” Mongolia orders.

Dalia grabs Juhaina’s arm and drags her into the hall. They both nearly gag at its smell.

Juhaina then gets an eyeful of the woman Kyrgyzstan has by the hair. Before she can even process anything, though, Kyrgyzstan shoots her in the face.

Juhaina’s jaw slams down so fast she tastes blood.

Mongolia stares at them, seeming more confused than anything. “Why are you feeling anything for that woman? She and all the others kept you trapped here like animals.”

Juhaina can only muster a pathetic noise in response.

Mongolia looks away. “Just…follow us,” they order, putting on their gas mask again.

Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan herd both of them forward. The halls are littered with dead bodies, and the sight nearly makes Juhaina vomit. Dalia starts coughing uncontrollably.

Kyrgyzstan is whistling.

“How—How did you kill everyone this fast?” Dalia blurts out. When she’s nervous, she has no filter.

Juhaina shoots her a look as Mongolia lifts their gas mask. “We don’t have these just because we want to.”

Dalia’s eyebrows pinch together.

“We gassed most of the rooms,” Mongolia spells out for her. “We also had inside help.”

“O-Oh.”

“And bombs and machine guns are very effective,” Kyrgyzstan pipes up.

“Don’t be insensitive,” Kazakhstan snaps. “Both of you.”

Kyrgyzstan bristles. She glares at her. “I’m finally getting to be _useful_ with my military training, so fuck you.”

Mongolia tries to interrupt. Kyrgyzstan talks over her.

“Not that’d you know, though! I mean, you lived the high life and were only used for—”

Mongolia hits her. “Now is not the time for this. Sorry, Kazakhstan, I was just answering her question.”

“Oh, so you’re taking her side!?” Kyrgyzstan sneers.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side because there isn’t one to take,” Mongolia says with a huff, says so nonchalantly as they pass a mangled body on the floor.

Juhaina has to fight being sick when they turn a corner. Waiting there are two other Nations, both women.

“You’re late,” the one says.

Mongolia jabs their finger at Dalia and Juhaina. “It’s _their_ —”

“Sorry, Azerbaijan, we got held up,” Kazakhstan quickly interjects.

Juhaina doesn’t know what she expected, but this is not how she wanted to be rescued. Now faced with a huge set of stairs, hearing a loud roaring in the distance, being surrounded by dead bodies—she doesn’t want this.

_We need to run from them, Dalia._

“Come on,” Mongolia snaps.

Juhaina starts to turn around, but they manhandle her forward.

_They’re just as delirious as Mom._

_Dalia—_

“What’s the holdup?” It sounds like Croatia again. “Everyone else is already loaded onto the helicopters. We need to leave now. He’s getting worried.”

“We’re almost there.”

_Almost where!?_

Three giant helicopters are waiting outside, their blades kicking up an unbelievable amount of dust. The noise is deafening.

Someone yells at them, gesturing something.

_I can’t—_

Juhaina starts to struggle. Someone pushes her. She refuses to move. They can’t go with them. They have to escape on their own. Someone hits her. Dalia screams. They aim their guns. She—

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰٤/۱۱)

_11 April 2015_

Juhaina wakes up on a bed with someone’s hand in her hair.

She opens her eyes and blinks; then rapidly sits up.

“It’s okay!” Dalia blurts out, her face etched with exhaustion. “You’re safe; it’s okay.”

Juhaina wills her heart rate to calm down. “Where—Where are we?” Her voice cracks.

“Before, that base was in Lebanon. But now—we’re in Palestine now, thanks to a man named Kazimir.”

_Palestine!?_

Juhaina’s head is spinning. “But how did we—”

Dalia looks away. “You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days. They—They kept you dead until we arrived here.”

Juhaina has no idea what to say. Her mouth tastes vile, and she feels crusty, and—

She realizes they’re not alone.

There are eight other Nations in the room, all women, all dressed in ratty clothing.

“Juhaina,” Dalia whispers.

“W-What?”

“Today’s date is the 11th of April, 2015.”

Juhaina blinks.

She then realizes she’s crying.

* * *

 

(11 aпрель 2015 года)

_11 April 2015_

Kazimir looks at the list, already getting a headache.

Thanks to the information he and his followers obtained from the Jordan embassies, they were able to learn the locations of these Nation Avatars. It was a surprise that the American ones were in Lebanon. The Russians’ in Siberia, not so much.

The Americans had nine Nations in their program: Israel, Palestine, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Jordan, the Federated States of Micronesia, Marshall Island, and Palau. All were ‘born’ in the late 1800s and beyond, the ancient Nations ceasing to exist in some of those areas long ago.

The US swept all of them up during the Cold War, but the American government cronies just thought that—these Nations were useless! And nothing was ever done with them until Robert’s program in 1977.

_Robert…_

Kazimir almost slaps himself.

The Nation Avatars the Russians had were predictable. Though some came from areas where there were ancient civilizations, all formed in the 1900s or later.

Armenia is the oldest, formed in 1918 and held in her country until the Soviets made use of her during the Second World War. The Yugoslavians—Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Slovenia, and Serbia—formed suddenly in 1946, all at the same time. They, with Armenia, were then locked away in Siberia after World War II, in a separate compound that Kazimir never knew about until years afterward.

Then, in 1991, more Nation Avatars formed right at the cusp of the USSR’s collapse. The Russians seized them before their newly formed governments even knew what Nations were. So now Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Azerbaijan are all Kazimir’s.

There are twenty-three Nations in total. Twenty-three that Kazimir and his band of fifty followers now have in their possession to use for their…well, Robert hates the word, and he doesn’t like ‘followers’ either, but…

Kazimir frantically shuffles some papers.

Revenge. It’s for revenge against the Nation system. To cause chaos. To show that they aren’t just pawns and that they are capable of undermining everything.

The people here—all of them need a leader, and they trust him. They think his actions in Siberia somehow justify him being in command, so…Kazimir won’t let them down. He wants them to realize their goals. He wants this! Robert shouldn’t be fucking able to make him doubt so much and stall and agonize about the next step, but somehow he’s let it get to this point.

 _If he just_ joined _me, then everything would be better. I know he would be happier, and then I wouldn’t constantly have to worry about his safety. It’s not my fault. It’s his. It’s his. It’s his…_

* * *

    

> > **Дата Вход** : 11.04.15 
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I have all of them.
> 
> **Robert** : They’re at your base?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Yes.
> 
> **Robert** : Now what, then
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Revenge.
> 
> **Robert** : That’s...not a plan
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Well, the group wants
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I will leak information slowly. Make governments suffer. Recruit more miserable Nation Advisors and have them destroy things from the inside. We will cause their entire Nation system to collapse. Those Nations lives will be destroyed. We will make chaos. Maybe it will not last forever, but it will last logn enough so they know what this system has done to Frank and everyone else
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Having these Nations will help with that
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : They all respect me too. I am their leader

Robert blinks and takes off his reading glasses to rub his eyes.

_You’re so fucking insane._

_Why am I still doing this?_    

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Your safety is still big concern, though
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : It is always a concern
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Sometimes I cannot sleep at night because I think

Robert’s stomach constricts, and he feels weird. He hates it when Kazimir says shit like that, but it also fills him with some twisted glee.

Against all logic, that’s probably why he’s doing this. At first, it was to have a purpose…or something.

No. Fuck. It’s still for that. Not for him. It’ll never be for him. 

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Robert, please. I do not want to beg, but it is getting close to that point now
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am afraid to act more because. My followers
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You do not like that word but they are angry but
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Something could happen to you.

Robert swallows, trying to ignore the wave of heat that rushes over him.  

> **Robert** : But you can’t get inside information without me being here
> 
> **Robert** : That’s the whole fucking reason why you started talking to me again in the first place. That’s why you found me! I feed you information. That’s my purpose. I’m good at that
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : That does not matter now
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Robert, please.

He logs off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there was a single time I spelt ‘Kazakstan’ or ‘Kyrgyzstan’ right without the help of spell check orz
> 
> I don’t know a lot about any of the countries I mentioned, except Palestine and Israel. The Nations personalities are not meant to be portrayals of what I think locals of their countries act like, rather I’m just trying to diversify them
> 
> I’m not trying to do a history lesson. I know some things are off. Please.. just work with me. 
> 
> (Also fuck you Hima, they’re all women)
> 
> Yeah, I know there’s technically a cannon character for Mongolia who I’m pretty sure is male. Well, idc my Mongolia is an androgynous female. (And anyway, his character existed way in the past, where mine is new, so)


	11. Explanations

_2015_ _년_ _04_ _월_ _19_ _일_  

For a second, South Korea thinks suit man’s making a joke, but the expression on Prussia’s face says otherwise.

“What?” is all Hungary asks.

Now suit man seems nervous. “Ilse didn’t…you haven’t told anyone?”

“Gilbert,” Austria manages to get out, his eyebrows pinched together.

Suit man looks unsure of himself when Prussia doesn’t say anything. “I mean, that’s why you left the assembly room, right? Because you needed your medi—”

“Why did Ilse tell you?” Prussia interrupts, his voice eerily calm.

“We were forced to exchange any pertinent information about you guys. So, it’s not just me who knows. And your…medical condition is the reason why Ilse and I got permission to move all of you in the first place.”

“How long?” France forces out, his voice cracking.

“How long?” Prussia repeats in German. “I don’t know. The cancer’s new.”

Austria appears distressed. “New? Then what’s old?”

“I’d rather we not talk about this.”

“Not talk about this!?” Spain explodes. “What the fuck, you—you have cancer!? What else haven’t you been telling us?”

Prussia’s expression is shuttered. “Well…” He sighs; then starts counting off his fingers. “I haven’t been healing ‘normally,’ my vision is getting shittier, I can’t sense presences…”

“But you—you still have one,” Hungary says in a daze. “I’m prodding at it.”

“Well, I can’t tell.” 

“Chemo,” France blurts out. “You’re doing chemo, right?”

Prussia gives a sharp laugh. “No. What’s the point?”

“But why?” Spain asks, visibly shaking. “Why has this happened now and not right after the Second World War?”

Prussia bites his lip. “Because after it they made me represent East Germany.”

“When!?” Austria demands while Spain blankly stares. Hungary whispers something about a document in disbelief.

“Stalin did,” Prussia mutters, “during the Korean war because the Soviets were unsatisfied with my healing rate.”

South Korea swallows.

“So then with the German reunification, I had…another episode.”

“You—again!?” France says incoherently.

“Yeah. It was worse than the other three times; Ilse found me half-dead in the bathroom.” Prussia runs his hand through his hair, looking a bit more hysterical. “And now I don’t represent anything, I guess, which is why my body is trying to kill me.”

Suit man coughs loudly. They’re all speaking different languages, and it’s clear he’s confused and uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spain demands, ignoring him. “Why did you keep this a secret?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Prussia spits out. “Maybe so all of you wouldn’t react this way.”

“That’s no—”

“Antonio,” France says desperately.

“You should have told us!”

“Why!?” Prussia screams. “What good would that have done!?”

France is near tears. “Gilbert.”

He backs up, getting a wild look in his eyes. “I mean, I should just dissolve right now, shouldn’t I? What’s the goddamn point anymore!?”

“Gilbert,” Hungary pleads, taking a step towards him. “Calm down.”

“I AM CALM.”

Suit man makes a noise. Austria tries to grab Prussia’s arm.

He swats him away and holds up his right hand. “Here!”

His thumb starts dissolving.

Spain lunges forward and tackles him to the ground, Prussia crying out in pain as soon as his back hits the floor. France, Austria, and Hungary run over to check if he’s okay while the rest of them crane their heads.

Prussia, in a daze, stands up. His thumb has stopped dissolving.

There’s exposed bone, though.

After his brash act, Spain is frozen, and the others are so stunned that they don’t move.

It’s suit man of all people who does something.

He frantically grabs a wad of paper towels and compresses Prussia’s finger as blood starts to pool down his hand. Prussia just watches, his breathing speeding up.

“Someone get his cell phone,” suit man snaps. “He probably has Ilse’s number on there. She can take him to the hospital.”

“It hurts,” Prussia gasps. “It hurts—”

“Someone get his fucking phone!” suit man screams as he repeats himself. Taiwan reacts first and bolts out of the kitchen, her hair towel falling off in the process.

Suit man, still holding Prussia’s thumb, turns to Austria and Hungary. “You two are here for emotional support, so offer some, dammit!”

They jerk themselves forward. Hungary takes the thumb, allowing suit man to step away, as Austria tries to calm Prussia. He’s acting hysterical at this point.

The wad of paper towels is becoming soaked with blood.

South Korea has no idea what to do. He feels like a useless bystander when Taiwan runs back into the kitchen. “The phone only has 5% battery left,” she says in English.

“Give it to me,” suit man snaps.

“There’s a passcode, and I—I don’t know what it is.”

“Christ—” He takes a deep breath. “What’s your password?” he asks Prussia, his voice surprisingly calm.

“It hurts,” is all Prussia keeps repeating. Austria is still trying to soothe him, but he looks close to tears.

“Try four ‘ones,’” America blurts out. He’s pale and gripping Japan’s hand. “I think I used his phone once, and—try four ‘ones.’”

Suit man does, and the phone unlocks. “It’s all in German,” he says after a second.

“The icons are still the same,” South Korea snaps in English while England walks over and grabs the phone. France hovers, barely keeping himself together, as England finds Ilse’s number and dials it. He then puts the phone on speaker and hands it back to suit man.

Ilse picks up immediately. “Gilbert? I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Is everything okay?”

“Ilse, it’s Robert,” suit man rushes out. “I don’t know what you just said in German, but listen—we need to take Prussia to the hospital. There’s been an incident.”

“What’s wrong?” she frantically asks, switching languages. “And who’s crying in the background? Is that him?”

“Yeah. His thumb—it just—it dissolved, and now it’s bleeding profusely. I don’t want to take him to the hospital myself because he’s under your jurisdiction. I’ll make the proper announcements to everyone else, though, so you can focus on him.”

“Okay, I’m pulling up right now. I just need to get through security.”

South Korea’s head is spinning. _Security?_

“Okay. And everyone here knows about his—I fucked up. I thought—I’m sorry.”

“Shit. Okay, they’re going to inspect my car now. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be here.” Suit man hangs up. Just as he does, the phone runs out of battery.

“I think he’s going into shock,” Hungary says in English. “He’s had worse injuries before; I don’t understand—”

“He has leukemia,” suit man snaps.

Prussia is whimpering.

“Leukemia?” Austria whispers to himself.

Spain looks around for something. “Pain meds,” he says in English. “Pain meds; he has them, right?”

“We don’t know if he’s already taken some,” suit man spits out. “And we don’t want him to overdose. Jesus, all of you need to get some—”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Russia growls.

Suit man actually looks frightened. He nods obediently.

Eventually, they hear a car pull to a screeching halt in front of the house.

Ilse barrels through the doorway and into the kitchen. When she sees Prussia, she acts immediately. “Austria and Hungary, help me lead Gilbert to the car. You two are coming with me.” She says everything in English.

France starts moving. “What about me and Anto—”

“You two are on the most involved list. I can’t take you,” she rushes, not even looking at him. “Gilbert, how are you feeling?”

He seems to come to his senses. “It’s—throbbing.”

“Understandable. Did you take your pain meds earlier?”

“N-No.”

“Someone grab his cosmetic bag,” Ilse orders.

Taiwan bolts out of the room.

“Austria, Hungary—take Gilbert outside to the car.”

They don’t need to be told twice.

Ilse turns to suit man. “Robert, are you alright here by yourself?”

He suddenly looks old. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Taiwan sprints back into the room, cosmetic bag in hand. Ilse grabs it; then curses. “Shit, the groceries are still in the trunk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” suit man repeats like a broken record.

South Korea, though, does worry. He’s starving.

Ilse bites her lip, nods, then runs out of the house.

They hear the car speed away.

Suit man rubs his face. “Well, now’s probably not the best time to explain everything,” he mutters after a bit.

It suddenly seems to register in America and Japan’s minds that they’re holding hands because they abruptly move away from each other.

Suit man doesn’t bat an eye. “I hope you’re aware you’re not secretive. We all know and don’t really care—well, from the US and Japan at least.” He glances at England and France. “They, we, whoever—your relationship is known about too. And China and Russia—Jesus fuck, I’m getting out of here.”

“What about food?” Hong Kong manages to ask while all the couples look mortified.

Suit man seems irritated. “I don’t know; you’ll get some eventually.”

The door slams shut. It’s then silent except for the sound of his car starting up and pulling away.

“Well, screw you too,” Hong Kong mutters.

China appears nauseous.

Russia’s voice is pained. “Yao, it’s—”

“Don’t say it’s okay. Yesterday you were shot in the head and tortured, and now everyone’s telling us they know about our relationship.”

“Why don’t you two go outside and get some fresh air,” England murmurs to France and Spain after a bit. They look distraught.

France nods blankly.

England immediately bolts to the sink and retches as soon as they’re gone.

“Arthur,” Canada rushes out, running up to him.

Their conversation becomes inaudible as South Korea walks to the living room. Hong Kong and Taiwan follow him.

“Now what?” Hong Kong mumbles, glancing at South Korea and then at the ground.

South Korea rubs his face. Russia and China disappear. America and Japan are frozen. England is close to having a nervous breakdown.

Prussia has cancer.

“We wait,” Taiwan responds.

* * *

 

It’s 5 PM.

They’ve yet to receive any word on Prussia and/or have food delivered. On top of that, they’re tired, confused, and slightly miserable.

But at least they have AC.

Right now, South Korea is playing chess. Someone found a set when they raided the house a couple of hours ago.

Problem is, he sucks at it.

He’s playing against America, who’s moderately good. But he’s distracted, so he keeps making a lot of stupid mistakes.

Hong Kong, for whatever reason, is great at the game and is getting annoyed with them. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters after South Korea moves his knight.

“Shut up, Kha Loung.”

The three of them are in the living room, off to the side. America and South Korea are on the floor while Hong Kong is draped over an armchair, scrutinizing them.

America’s hand hovers above his queen.

“I wouldn’t move it,” Hong Kong mutters.

“Do you not have anything better to do?” South Korea snaps.

Hong Kong blinks innocently. “What, like watch that VHS collection we found? I’m good, thanks.”

It’s a shitty soap opera that England has been binging like there’s no tomorrow. Canada, Taiwan, and Japan are watching it with him.

England mutters something that South Korea misses. Hong Kong stiffens, not responding, and South Korea feels…sympathy for him? He doesn’t know, but it distracts him so much that America is able to move one of his knights and take out South Korea’s queen.

“Dammit, Alfred.”

He grins. South Korea tries not to notice the circles etched under his eyes. He’s obviously still being affected by whatever they injected into him.

“Pay attention next time.”

South Korea rubs his face. “Even if I did, I still wouldn’t know what to do.”

Spain and France come down the stairs and enter the kitchen. They don’t seem as broken as they did a couple of hours ago, but that’s not saying much.

“Look at what we found in the attic,” Spain says as South Korea moves his pawn. Hong Kong grumbles something. South Korea pretends not to hear.

“There’s an attic?” Canada asks, glancing at them.

“It was hidden,” France replies. It seems like he’s trying to make eye contact with England, but England ignores him.

Spain clasps France’s shoulder; then holds up an Apple TV.

“Why was it in the attic?” Taiwan blurts out. “It seems brand new.”

“It’s probably a gift from Liechtenstein,” France says wearily.

“And it was probably in the attic because, with Basch’s shitty Wi-Fi, it won’t work here,” Japan mutters. Japan is grumpy. He’s been that way ever since the relationship thing was mentioned and has been giving America the cold shoulder for the past hour.

_“See, we didn’t need to question the two faggots.”_

_“Did you see their faces?”_

_“What abominations.”_

“But he might have movies on it, right?” France naïvely asks, snapping South Korea out of his thoughts.

“That’s not how it works,” Japan mutters.

“Oh.”

He’s picking at a cuticle. “You need Wi-Fi to access your iTunes library where the movies would be stored.”

France clearly has no idea what that means. Spain forces out a grin and sets the Apple TV down on the kitchen table. “Well, we tried. We were excited for a couple of minutes, but I guess…”

“Is there anything else interesting in the attic?” Canada asks, seeming desperate for a normal conversation.

England shushes him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Hong Kong mutters as South Korea’s hand hovers over his king.

Canada glares at England. France smiles wearily. “Not really. It’s pretty barren.”

Out of spite, South Korea moves his king.

America moves his queen. “Checkmate.”

“Fuck.”

Hong Kong smirks. “Told you.”

Spain and France linger in the kitchen, peering at the TV as South Korea grunts and gets up. He watches America gather the chess pieces.

“You’re staring at me,” America mutters, standing.

“Just trying to see if you’re still hurt.”

He glowers. “I’m fine.”

“Alfred, you don’t have the best track record of being honest about shit like this.”

He sighs. “I—physically, I’m fine now. Mentally, okay, I’ll admit I’m not 100%. But I’m—I’m able to keep a lid on it.”

South Korea has a weird flashback to Valley Forge. “Just don’t…bottle it up. And I’m here if you want to talk since I know Kiku…” He trails off. _Isn’t being helpful right now? Is giving you the cold shoulder?_

America bites his lip. “Shit, I just—I feel like I’m putting him through so much.”

“I’m still here,” Hong Kong mutters.

“Then go somewhere else,” South Korea fires back.

Hong Kong’s expression falls. America ignores them. “This relationship thing that we’re—”

South Korea tries to interrupt. “Alfred.”

“I—I trust Robert. He says people don’t mind. But Kiku is clearly bent out of shape over it.”

_“…the two faggots.”_

“And I don’t want him to worry about that on top of having to deal with the fact that we’ve been thrown in this house for no apparent reason without any explanation, and—”

“Hey.”

“I feel like he’s always worrying about me because I’m such a mess and that whatever we have between us is so one-sided because I’m fucked up half the time and incapable of—”

“Alfred, it’s okay,” South Korea gets in, averting eye contact with Hong Kong.

America violently runs his hand through his hair. “Is it?”

South Korea touches his shoulder. Instantly, he can feel Japan’s eyes on them. “Just…take a deep breath. We can play another game if that’ll help.”

America laughs miserably. “How are you acting so calm? I can’t even wrap my head around Prussia’s—”

“Don’t think about it.” South Korea knows the more he does, the worse he’ll get.

America chews his lip. Hong Kong fidgets.

“And to answer your question, at this point, I’m so freaked out I’ve entered this weird state of pseudo-calmness.” That, and he knows one of them has to keep it together.

America sniffs.

“Hey,” Hong Kong blurts out after a bit.

South Korea dully looks at him. “What?”

“Want to mess with Kiku?”

America shrugs off South Korea’s arm. “Stop. Leave him alone.”

South Korea finds himself smiling. “No wait, let’s hear what he has in mind.”

Hong Kong’s expression lights up. “Yong-Soo, take Alfred’s hand. I’ve seen Kiku glance over here, like, every other minute.”

South Korea complies. America seems baffled. “What.”

“Now lean in like you’re going to kiss him.”

America gets a panicked look as South Korea does so and laughs. He barely touches his nose with his own, though, before Japan wrenches him away.

His expression is wild.

“God, you two are such dicks,” Taiwan says from the couch. England shushes her.

Japan nearly shoves South Korea to the ground and grabs America’s arm, looking absolutely flustered. America chews his lip.

“Why don’t we at least try to hook up the Apple TV,” South Korea blurts before it can get any more awkward, suddenly feeling bad. “What’s the hurt in trying, right?”

Japan stares at him; then rubs his face. “Do we even have the correct cables? This TV is from the 60s, remember?”

South Korea glances at it. “Uh.”

“There was a box full of, like, a million wires in the attic,” Spain says from the kitchen. He and France are sitting at the table. “I can go get it.”

“Uh, sure.”

“You know, if the Wi-Fi doesn’t work, we can use the AirPlay on someone’s phone,” America mumbles to Japan after Spain walks away. France, meanwhile, is staring at the chest full of alcohol.

“That’d be a lot of data.”

America offers a small smile. “Ilse would be horrified, but you’re not paying for it.”

“See, it worked,” Hong Kong mutters after Japan laughs softly. He and South Korea have moved closer to the couch.

“I nearly thought Kiku was going to kill me.”

Hong Kong smiles. “That’s your problem.”

South Korea watches him when he sits next to Taiwan, feeling something indefinable.

_You should smile more._

_It’s nice…_

He frantically walks to the kitchen, trying to shake that weird thought out of his head.

Spain comes back with a huge cardboard box of tangled wires.

South Korea stares at it. “Well, you weren’t lying.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

France abruptly stands up and heads to the chest of alcohol.

“Francis,” Spain warns.

He glowers. “At this point, I don’t care.”

“Now’s not the time to get drunk.”

“It’s actually the perfect time,” Russia grumbles, walking into the room. China follows him with an exasperated look on his face.

Canada stands up, blocking England’s view. He complains. Canada ignores him. “I agree with Antonio. I don’t think—”

Russia looks him in the eye, pulls out a bottle of some unidentifiable liquor, untwists the cap, then chugs it.

Canada stutters.

France follows Russia’s lead and opens another bottle, this time one of the fancy wines. He’s slightly more civilized, though, and grabs a glass.

South Korea watches Russia in fascination as he guzzles the whole bottle, no breaks. Whatever that shit is seems potent too.

China gives him a scolding look once he’s finished. “Classy.”

“It tasted like shit.”

“Because that seemed to matter.”

Russia shoves France’s open bottle towards him. “Have a glass.”

“I don’t want to.”

Russia pours him one anyway. China rubs his temples; then takes it.

“Fine. Fuck it,” Spain grumbles, reaching for the bottle.

England finally tears his eyes away from the TV screen.

“Arthur, no,” Canada says like he’s scolding a child.

“Bloody—fuck you.” England stands up.

“Do you really think alcohol will help with anything?”

“I can make my own decisions,” he spits out.

“But—”

“SOD OFF.”

Canada looks like he’s ready to curl into himself as England shoves past him. France dully hands him a glass when he reaches the table.

South Korea really doesn’t feel like drinking. He figures enough of them have already been inebriated, though that doesn’t stop Japan, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. They walk over as Spain cracks open a new bottle.

South Korea, America, and Canada are left standing in the living room.

“What, you don’t want to drink?” Canada mutters to America.

“I’m finally not loopy anymore. I’d rather not revert to that state.”

“Alright, take your bets—who’s gonna throw up first,” South Korea says after an awkward pause. The others are starting to down multiple glasses.

“Russia,” Canada responds immediately.

“Nah, Ivan can hold his liquor,” America mumbles. “I vote Arthur.”

South Korea looks at China. “Then I say Yao. He has the tolerance of a five-year-old.”

* * *

 

Being sober while everyone else is flat out wasted isn’t fun.

South Korea is dully sitting on the couch with Canada. Next to them, England is draped over an armchair, wine glass in hand—God knows what number he’s on—watching the stupid soap opera. He’s laughing hysterically and pointing at the screen. One of the characters just died.

France is next to him, leaning over the back of his chair. His shirt is off. For the life of him, South Korea doesn’t know why.

On the last available seat is Spain, who’s snoring loudly. There’s an empty wine bottle next to him. It’s only 6:30 PM.

Hong Kong and Taiwan, meanwhile, are next to each other on the ground, doing something on her phone, though Hong Kong is being really handsy. Taiwan keeps swatting him away.

South Korea watches them until he hears China giggle. He and Russia are doing something in the kitchen. There’s a partial wall that separates them from the living room, so South Korea can’t see what. Honestly, at this point, he doesn’t want to know.

He leans his head back, wishing America were here, but he and Japan went off somewhere else. The last time South Korea saw them, Japan was being really clingy.

He sighs, trying to ignore his growling stomach. “No one’s thrown up yet. I’m disappointed.”

“Give it a bit,” Canada mutters. He’s fiddling with his phone.

“I’m jealous,” South Korea says, glancing at it. “Mine ran out of battery a while ago.”

“You didn’t grab a charger from the assembly room?”

“I forgot.”

“Ah.”

England cackles at the TV again, causing Hong Kong’s head to jerk towards him. His eyes are glazed over.

“Here we go,” Canada mutters, scrolling more rapidly.

“For a fucking second, I thought you were that cunt Scotland,” Hong Kong sneers. South Korea’s learned that when he’s drunk, he swears a lot.

England glares. “That bloody bastard is more obnoxious than—” he hiccups, “than I’ll ever be.”

“At least he never _pretended_ to like me,” Hong Kong sneers, now in English, spit flying everywhere.

“Fight, fight,” South Korea says under his breath.

Canada side-eyes him as Taiwan pulls at Hong Kong’s sleeve. “Kha Loung, _stop_.” She drags out the word.

Spain lets out a loud snore. Hong Kong grabs her shoulder. “No, I—” he pauses, seeming unaware that his British accent is becoming more pronounced. “I want to let that bloody colonizer know—”

Taiwan shoves off his hand. “ _Kha Loung_.”

England opens his mouth.

France leans over and starts kissing his neck.

Canada just seems not to care at all as they start drunkenly making out, so South Korea unapologetically stands up. He’ll find another place to sit, dammit.

Hong Kong’s head jerks in his direction. “Wait, where—where are you going?” he slurs. “Don’t f—don’t…”

“You’re not even paying attention to me.”

“ _Kha Loung_ ,” Taiwan whines. “Let’s watch the video now. He—” She hiccups. “He doesn’t want to hang out with us.”

That causes Hong Kong to look like a kicked puppy.

South Korea leaves, not wanting to deal with either of them.

He knows there’s an office; that’s where the really old desktop computer is. Maybe he can try to start it up—

Oh.

Well, that’s where America and Japan went. They’re sitting on the couch; Japan pressed up against America’s side. His face is bright red, and he’s rambling.

South Korea eavesdrops because he really has nothing better to do.

“—t you touching him,” Japan slurs. “Not him. Anyone but him. You’re mine. You’re _mine_.” His voice cracks.

“Kiku,” America murmurs. “Nothing is going on between Yong-Soo and me.”

South Korea nearly bursts out laughing.

Japan seems angry. “But I saw you—Twice! You—You two were…”

“There was nothing romantic involved, I promise.”

“But the hand-holding was,” Japan insists. “It was romantic because that’s what we do, and we don’t kiss, so hand-holding—” His voice breaks. “I don’t want you doing that with him.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

Japan starts crying.

America freaks out and pulls him into a hug. “Shit, Kiku. It’s okay.”

“It’s n-not okay. They put you on a projector, and you were all—you were all bloody, and then they called me and Yao faggots, and now everyone _knows_ about this and everything else, and I—you mean so much to me, I can’t watch—you can’t go through _that_ again—”

America squeezes him harder. “It’s going to be A-Okay.”

“Don’t use that fucking phrase—”

“Shit, alright. It’ll be fine. I promise, Kiku, it’ll work out.”

“You woke up screaming from a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry—”

“DON’T BE SORRY!”

America looks absolutely lost as Japan lets out another sob. South Korea has no idea what to do with himself.

“We’re here together,” America murmurs into Japan’s hair after a bit. “And together, we can do anything. We can get through this.”

South Korea can’t hear what Japan mumbles.

“Don’t say that. You know how much I do.”

South Korea has never seen America’s expression this soft before. It’s why it catches him off-guard when he leans in and whispers, “I love you,” into the shell of Japan’s ear.

Yeah. This conversation is getting way too sappy for him.

He tries to walk away as quietly as possible, passing by the room just in time to see Japan drunkenly kiss America’s forehead.

As he gets to the foyer and debates where to miserably sit, there’s a knock on the front door.

“Hey,” he blurts out in German after he opens it.

Prussia appears exhausted. His right hand is covered in gauze; his thumb wrapped up so tightly it looks like he can’t move it.

Ilse forces out a smile. “Hi. There’s, uh, some groceries in the car. The frozen things have probably spoiled by now, but everything else should be okay.”

“Where’re Austria and Hungary?” South Korea can’t help but ask, craning his head to see if they’re hiding somewhere.

“They left,” Prussia mutters.

“Left…?”

Ilse frowns. “Their governments…collected them.” She turns. “Here, Gilbert, South Korea and I will bring in the groceries. Why don’t you—”

“Wait,” South Korea blurts out. “Um, just a warning. Everyone else is… drunk.”

Ilse’s eyebrows pinch together. “Drunk? How?”

“We found alcohol. Like, they’re wasted. I’m not exaggerating.”

“Are Francis and Antonio included in this?” Prussia asks, squeezing his eyes shut.

He fidgets. “Uh, yeah. Spain’s passed out on the couch. And the last time I saw France, his tongue was down England’s throat.”

“Great.”

Ilse bites her lip. “Okay, then how about we just bring everything into the foyer, and you can take it to the kitchen as needed. Sound good?”

South Korea nods.

“Are you really the only sober one?”

“Alfred and Canada are too, I guess. But they’re distracted.”

“Ah…”

He and Ilse grab the bags and set them inside as Prussia blankly watches.

Ilse fidgets when they’re finished. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning, early, with Robert,” she says to Prussia. “If you need anything, call me. There’s a cell phone charger in your pocket with the prescription.”

He grunts, refusing to make eye contact.

“And please just _try_ and talk to your friends.”

“Easier said than done; especially now that they’re all wasted!”

Ilse bites her lip. “Just try. Please, Gilbert.”

South Korea has no idea what to say after she leaves. He’s friends with Prussia, but they’re not close. The only heart to heart they’ve had with each other was during the stupid road trip.

Suddenly a glass of alcohol seems really tempting.

“Where is everyone?” Prussia asks.

“Uh, mostly the living room. Though Alfred and Kiku are in the office, and Ivan and Yao are in the kitchen.”

Prussia nods. He makes no move to go anywhere.

“Hey, uh, do you want to…talk about it?” South Korea tries; then winces at how idiotic he sounds.

“Not really.”

There’s a muffled squeal from down the hall.

“At least that’s not your dominant hand, right?” South Korea asks, ignoring it.

“I guess.”

“Your thumb really hasn’t grown back yet?”

“I haven’t healed at a normal rate since the German Reunification.”

“Oh.”

This is one of the most uncomfortable conversations South Korea has ever had in his life.

“Do—Do you want to join the others?” he tries again.

“Not really.”

South Korea is getting frustrated. “Then I don’t know what you want.”

Prussia looks dejected. “I don’t either.”

“…”

“It really would be easier if I just died right now.”

“D-Don’t say that.”

“But I’m just prolonging this. I’m just making everyone else more _miserable_.” He kicks one of the grocery bags, causing a box of crackers to fly out and hit the wall.

South Korea’s stomach growls, but he ignores it. “You’re not making everyone more miserable.”

“You just said Francis and Antonio were wasted!”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“They’re not like that because they’re happy!”

South Korea fidgets.

“If I just died when I should have, none of this would have happened,” Prussia rambles. “Antonio and I wouldn’t have broken Francis out during the Second World War, and then the stupid fucking _‘plan_ ’ would have never happened!”

“But I’m happy it did,” South Korea says in a small voice.

Prussia has a twisted expression. “ _Why_?”

“Because I finally got to experience what it was like to be a normal person after literal decades. That wouldn’t have happened if you let yourself die.”

Prussia starts crying.

South Korea tries not to panic. “Shit, sorry—”

“N-No, I—” Prussia’s voice cracks. “Sorry, I—I just calmed down, but—”

South Korea knows he’s not the right person to comfort him. Those who are, though, are either asleep or ‘preoccupied.’

He rubs Prussia’s back until he collects himself.

“I need a tissue,” Prussia eventually mutters, wiping his eyes.

South Korea fidgets. “I think there’s some in the kitchen.”

“But you said Russia and China—”

“They’re wasted. They won’t notice us.”

America, on the other hand, sees them immediately when they pass by the office. He says something to them, gently moving Japan to the side, but South Korea doesn’t hear what. Instead, his attention is on the entrance to the kitchen.

Russia and China are there, both half-naked, pressed up against each other, sporting hard-ons.

South Korea and Prussia are frozen. If the two notice them, they don’t show it. Russia has China pinned against the wall and is sloppily kissing his neck, while China’s hands are wandering dangerously close to his boxers.

“ _What the fuck!?”_ America exclaims, Japan woozily trailing him.

China moans and arches his back as Russia buries his hands into his hair.

South Korea points. “Alfred, do something.”

“ _Me?_ ”

“Break them up,” Prussia rushes out.

America is frazzled. “How—”

China slips off Russia’s boxers.

There are some things South Korea could have lived without ever seeing, and Russia’s erection is one of them.

America panics and exerts his presence everywhere, causing Russia and China to keel over. Off in the living room, Hong Kong yells nonsense.

Canada runs into the hallway; then halts immediately when he sees the commotion. “What—”

“How could you not hear them!?” South Korea exclaims.

“The soap opera, Spain’s snoring, and Francis and Arthur giggling over each other like fucking school girls was drowning out any background noise.” He then blinks in confusion when he sees Prussia.

Russia, meanwhile, is completely disoriented and seems pissed. His boxers are still down his waist. “What the fuck, Alfred.”

China tries to stand up. He can’t get his balance, though, and ends up falling again. South Korea can see a huge hickey on his neck.

“If you’re going to have sex, do it while you’re sober and not in the goddamn hallway,” America says as Japan slumps into him. “Jesus.”

China giggles. Russia opens his mouth.

He then vomits.

“I win,” Canada says dully.

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _04_ _월_ _20_ _일_  

Canada’s phone goes off at 7 AM.

South Korea gives him a dull look as soon as he silences it.

“You said Ilse and the American man would be here early,” he offers as an explanation.

“Ugh. Fine.”

After they mopped up Russia’s vomit, those sober enough banished all the drunks to their rooms, force-feeding them expired sleeping pills they found in Switzerland’s medicine cabinet if needed. That wasn’t fun.

South Korea gets out of bed and gathers the few clothes he has. The pile is pretty pathetic.

He leaves Canada dully staring at the wall and heads to the bathroom, haphazardly cleaning himself up there with what little supplies they have. Afterward, he walks to the kitchen.

Russia and China being up surprises him.

Russia’s eyes are sunken in, and China’s skin is pale. They’re both at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee in front of them.

“Question,” South Korea says. They both flinch, so he lowers the volume of his voice. “Do you even remember last night?”

China shakes his head. Russia looks miserable. “Kind of,” he mutters.

“You two were shit-faced.”

Russia ignores him and takes a sip of his coffee.

It’s when South Korea is grabbing a box of cereal that Canada and Prussia both enter.

“Wait, when’d you get here?” Russia asks.

Prussia gives a dull stare. “When you and China were fucking in the hallway.”

China nearly chokes on his drink. “ _What?_ ”

“He’s exaggerating,” South Korea rushes out, grabbing a bowl and moving to the side.

“Only slightly,” Prussia mutters, getting a glass. He fills it up with water and takes three huge pill bottles out of his sweatshirt.

Just as he chucks them on the counter, the doorbell rings. Canada is the first to react.

“Hi guys,” Ilse says in English when she, Canada, and suit man return. She’s trying to smile, but it looks a little pathetic.

Suit man grumbles something.

“Is everyone else still asleep?” she asks, ignoring him.

“Yeah,” Prussia mutters in English, still at the counter. “And probably hungover too.”

“I have Ibuprofen.”

“Should we wake up the others?” South Korea questions as China asks her for some.

“Yeah,” suit man mutters.

He doesn’t want to do that himself and has no idea why the fuck he just suggested it.

“Here, I’ll help,” Canada offers.

South Korea thanks him as they trudge away, knowing suit man is staring at their backs.

Canada sighs when they reach the top of the stairs. “I’ll handle Arthur, Francis, and Antonio.”

They were a mess last night when he threw them into the bedroom.

“Good luck.”

He rubs his face. “Thanks.”

To South Korea’s pleasant surprise, Japan and America are already awake when he knocks. Hong Kong and Taiwan on the other hand…

Hong Kong is lying on top of her, fast asleep and drooling.

“He’s pinning me to the bed,” Taiwan hisses after he opens the door. “I don’t even know when he left his own. I didn’t even know he sleepwalked!”

“Uh,” South Korea eloquently responds. “Suit man and Ilse are here. Want me to move him?”

“Please. His breath stinks.”

South Korea grabs Hong Kong’s shoulder and rolls him off. He falls to the ground and wakes up immediately. “Fuck off Scot—” He pauses, looking disoriented.

They make eye contact.

“Morning,” South Korea says cheerily.

“Why am I on the—” He breaks off and winces. “My head hurts.”

Taiwan gets up. “Well yeah; you drank a lot last night.”

“You did too,” South Korea says. “You’re not hungover?”

“Nope!”

Hong Kong stands, gripping his head. “Why am I next to Mei’s bed?”

“You sleepwalked.”

His face turns pink. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish.” Taiwan gathers her clothing. “And brush your teeth; your breath stinks.”

Hong Kong self-consciously covers his mouth while she exits the room.

“Ilse and suit man are here. That’s why I came in,” South Korea says after a few moments.

Hong Kong sits on Taiwan’s bed. “Did—Did you force me to take a sleeping pill yesterday?”

“Kind of.”

“You didn’t want to hang out with Mei and me either.” His voice sounds weirdly accusatory.

South Korea nearly laughs. “You two were wasted. Of course I didn’t.”

“…Oh.”

A weird silence follows.

South Korea has no idea what to say. “It’s only because you were drunk,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth.

Taiwan returns before Hong Kong can say anything. “Gilbert is back?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t really said much, though,” South Korea replies, happy she’s here.

“What about Roderich and Elizabeta?”

“I don’t know what happened to them.”

“Stop talking so loud,” Hong Kong mutters.

“Ilse has Ibuprofen,” South Korea says. “So if you get dressed…”

He stands up and grabs his clothing.

South Korea smirks, happy for the sense of normalcy. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

The atmosphere in the kitchen is awkward, to say the least.

France and Spain are staring at Prussia as if he’s a ghost while he practically hides behind Ilse. No one is talking either.

“Alright,” suit man mutters when everyone is there. “What questions do you have?”

“What do the Jordan bombings have to do with anything?” America mutters.

“Kazimir orchestrated them.”

“We know; you’ve told us,” Russia hisses in English. “But why?”

Suit man gives him a nervous glance. “He needed information stored there.”

“But why did people go missing after the attacks?” America pushes.

“They were working with him. They went willingly.”

Russia frowns. “What information did he need?”

“American and Russian base locations.”

“Base locations?” America repeats.

Suit man swallows. “Yes. The locations of where the Russians and Americans were experimenting on Nations.”

There’s a good uncomfortable pause.

“What Nations would the Americans even experiment on?” America blurts out first.

Suit man rubs his face. “Young ones. Some from the Middle East. Some from the Pacific.”

No one knows what to say.

“And the Russians had the Yugoslavian and other post-Soviet Nations. Either way, they’re all missing now.”

Russia’s expression grows cold. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, once Kazimir discovered where they were located, his follow—his group broke them all out.” Suit man coughs. “All twenty-three of them. We have no idea where they are, but wherever that is, Kazimir has nukes.”

“How the fuck does he have nukes!?”

“They’re the same ones you traded to that Russian mafia group. We believe he’s working with them.”

South Korea’s head is spinning.

“Wait, backtrack. _More_ Nations are being experimented on?” Prussia asks.

Suit man frowns. “Yes.”

“For how long?” America blurts out. 

“The American program started in 77‘,” suit man mutters. “I…founded it.”

They all stare at him.

“It was the only way I could bargain you out of getting tortured.”

“Like we’d believe that,” South Korea sneers.

“And the Russian one?” Russia asks before suit man can respond. His voice is guarded. “How long has that been going on?”

“I’m not—I’m not entirely sure. The Russians have been reluctant to hand over information. From what I know, though, the Yugoslavian Nations formed in the early 1900s and were kept in a separate compound during the Cold War. The others formed after the USSR’s collapse.”

“But I never knew…” Russia trails off.

America looks nauseous. “What does any of this have to do with Frank?”

“We think Kazimir is out for revenge because of what happened to him,” suit man mutters. “Like you’ve been told, he’s currently threatening to use the nukes he has, as well as leak classified information about Nations to the public. As of today, he’s already released some information about Nation Advisors. Vague, _useless_ shit, but…”

“Then what’s the plan?” America asks. He’s pale. Japan’s hands are twitching like he wants to touch him. “How are we going to fix this?

Suit man fidgets. “This is where you guys come in. The Russians are adamant about it, so.”

“What?”

“We’re going to make a ‘Nation Army’ with all of you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Russia hisses.

“I really wish I was,” suit man mumbles. “But this is the final agreement we all came to. We’re going to train you while we gather intelligence. Then, once we have an idea of where Kazimir’s base of operations is located, we’ll send you in to…finish the job, I suppose.”

“Why not just outright bomb the place!?” Russia snaps.

“Both the Americans and Russians are…adamant about retrieving their Nation property. That, and there’s the chance Kazimir has nuclear weapons.”

Russia’s expression is vicious. “You said that he did.”

“O-Oh. Well, it’s not completely certain.” He rubs his neck. “They’re making a training plan for all of you right now. We’ll be remaining in Switzerland for the time being, and your officials will be arriving later today to talk to you privately about what personal items you want here. It’s been decided that you’ll stay at this house.”

No one knows how to respond.

“It could be worse, you know,” suit man mutters. “Like with us Nation Advisors. We’re all being stationed here for ‘security’ reasons.”

Russia frowns. “What, do they think we’re going to—”

“No, it has nothing to do with you. They’re afraid of us. They’re afraid we’re going to help Kazimir leak information.”

“Robert,” Ilse murmurs. “We’re getting off topic. Let’s just show them the pictures.”

“Pictures?” America asks, his voice cracking.

Ilse takes out a notebook and lays it on the kitchen table. In it are laminated photos.

“That’s them,” she mumbles as everyone gathers around. “The missing Nations.”

“All of them are women,” Taiwan whispers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never been drunk in my life, but I’ve had plenty experience in dealing with drunk people.
> 
> Also, I guess another factoid to over-share? I got half my thumb bitten off by a horse when I was 14, so I shamelessly took part of my experience and wrote that into Prussia’s


	12. Acceptances and Denials

_20\. April 2015_  

Prussia’s vision blurs as he looks at the pictures.

“What the hell?” America blurts out. His presence must be expanding because those who aren’t allies of the US flinch.

England and Japan grab either side of him as Robert blankly stares at the table.

“How the fuck are we even going to make a Nation Army?” Russia demands in English.

Robert squirms. “By training. You’re already split into different groups. Ilse has them.”

She flips to a different page in the binder, looking exhausted. “Group 1: America, China, and Russia. Group 2: England, Spain, and France. Group 3: South Korea, Japan, and Canada. And Group 4: Prussia, Taiwan, and Hong Kong.”

Now Prussia can’t help but speak up. “Ilse, what the fuck, I have _cancer_.”

He can feel Spain and France’s eyes boring into him.

“What type of training are they even going to do with me!?”

“Gilbert, I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.”

“Training probably won’t start for a couple more days anyway,” Robert grumbles. Something in his pocket vibrates, but he ignores it. “Come on, Ilse. Let’s leave before their officials get here.”

Under no circumstances does Prussia want her to go. He gives her a desperate look, but she frowns and avoids eye contact. “Alright.”

Robert’s pocket vibrates again, and he glances at it before shoving past everyone. Ilse sighs and follows.

The binder is still on the kitchen table after they drive away, left on purpose or accidentally, Prussia doesn’t know.

He bolts out of the room before anyone can question him.

He hears Spain and France yell, but it’s nothing but white noise as he thrusts open the door to the backyard and sprints outside. He’s aware he’s being, what, stupid? Over dramatic? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He just keeps running. There are trees up ahead; a forest of some kind. Robert did say the property was huge and that there’s a lake somewhere. Maybe he should run to it and drown himself—

He’s tackled to the ground.

The wind is knocked out of him as a sharp pain ripples throughout his body. He turns his head. “What?”

“ _What!?_ ” Spain echoes. France is running towards them. “ _What!?_ I should be the one—where the hell were you even going!?”

Prussia has no response. Despite taking his pain meds earlier, his entire body’s now sore, and his thumb is throbbing.

Spain sighs, hesitantly moving away just as France finally reaches them.

Prussia doesn’t move.

“Gilbert, what the fuck,” France almost spits out. “Get up.”

“Yeah, kind of out of breath here,” he hisses. It breaks off in a cough.

Spain and France react immediately, Prussia wincing as they pull him to his feet. He checks his hand once they let go of his good arm. His thumb hurts, but it seems fine.

“Why have you been lying to us?” France whispers after a long pause.

Prussia frowns. “I told you—”

“We made a pact to never hide anything! To always be there for each other! And you just—why?”

“Gilbert,” Spain says, his voice wavering. “We could’ve helped. We could’ve been your support or something.”

Prussia stares at the ground, feeling dazed as he remembers his conversation with Austria and Hungary at the hospital.

“It’s not like you can do anything,” he mutters.

France seems broken. “No, we—”

“See, that’s the thing. You can’t. My death is—it’s inevitable. I’m dying. I’m supposed to be dead. I should have just dissolved when the others—”

Spain and France pull him into an embrace.

“When Bavaria—I should have—”

They grip him tighter.

Prussia starts crying.

“Gilbert,” France chokes out.

He sobs. He sobs, and snot leaks out of his nose, but they stay and hold him.

“At least it’s cooler out,” Spain murmurs when Prussia finally calms down.

“It’s supposed to get bad again tomorrow,” France responds, his voice muffled.

“Great.”

They both back away when Prussia sniffs, attempting to wipe his nose with his sleeve.

“I’m a fucking wreck,” he tries to joke, his voice coming out mangled.

Spain forces out a smile. “Normally I’d have tissues on me, but I’m in my boxers.”

Prussia wipes his nose again. “What, you don’t want to wear Roderich’s skinny jeans?”

“I could barely get them off of me,” France mutters.

Prussia laughs, but it sounds broken. He can’t make eye contact.

“You’re…really not doing anything for the cancer at all?” France asks after a long pause.

He shakes his head.

“But, you—”

“Francis, I’ve already made up my mind.”

“How long do you have?” Spain asks.

Prussia fidgets. “I dunno. I’m a Nation, so…maybe four years.”

“Four years,” Spain and France repeat.

“Yeah.”

“That’s—That’s a decent amount of time,” France says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself.

“I guess.”

“We could—do you have a bucket list or something?”

“We could travel; do all those things we’ve wanted to for years,” Spain adds on.

Prussia hangs his head. “Roderich and Elizabeta suggested the same thing.”

“Well—”

“Listen, our future is kind of uncertain right now considering we’re here.” He rubs his eyes. They’re swollen. “So let’s worry about this later.”

“You could still write a list,” France insists. “We’ll—this’ll be the best four years of your life.”

“And we can try to make the best of this situation,” Spain adds on. “We’ve done the same in the past, right?”

Prussia sighs, feeling exhausted. “Yeah. Okay.”

Canada walks up to them, appearing a little nervous.

“Mathieu, what’s wrong?” France asks when he’s within earshot.

“Your officials are here, Francis,” he responds.

“Oh.”

No one moves.

“They have your suitcase,” Canada adds on.

France practically sprints back to the house.

Canada glances at Prussia; then follows him.

“Listen,” Spain says when they’re gone. “We’ll act like everything’s normal. That’s what you want, right? We’ll work with you, Gilbert. But please—just, don’t keep anything secret from us. Like, if you’re in pain—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Prussia mumbles.

Spain fidgets. “Fine.”

They walk back to the house. 

* * *

 

Ilse stares at him.

Prussia fidgets in his seat, studying the blank piece of paper she’s shoved in front of him. “I don’t think it’s necessary—”

“Five things; that’s it. Just five bucket list items. Right now.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“I’m not screwing around. Five things. Come on.”

He sighs and fiddles with the pen she’s given him.

“Gilbert—”

It falls to the ground.

Ilse pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Seriously, though, you look exhausted,” Prussia mumbles. “You should get some rest soon.”

She closes her eyes. “It’s kind of hard to do that at the moment.”

They’re currently in the basement. Upstairs, they can hear officials moving around, talking to their Nations. They all arrived at approximately the same time, Ilse included.

“Why’d you come back?” Prussia asks. Ilse opens her eyes. “I mean, you just left an hour ago with Robert.”

She tugs at her hair, which is in a short ponytail. “Well, all the others have their Nation Advisors here, so…”

“Ah.”

“Gilbert, please just write five things down.”

“What, do you need to file a report?”

Ilse frowns. “No. I’m doing this as a friend.”

Prussia bends over and picks up the pen with his good hand.

“What are you writing?” she asks, craning her head when he jots something down.

He hands over the paper.

“Learn more about Ilse…”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. I barely know anything about you.”

“That’s a good thing,” she says after a moment.

“Why?”

“Because my life is…pathetic.”

Someone yells something upstairs. They don’t sound happy.

Ilse shifts. “Your stuff should be arriving by tomorrow morning.”

“Whoa now. You can’t just change the topic like that.”

“Ludwig went back to your Berlin apartment and packed up everything he thought was yours, so that stuff should be arriving by tomorrow. I just said that. Um, next, I’m pretty sure he’s going to—”

“Why did you become a Nation Advisor?” Prussia interrupts.

“I told Ludwig about your cancer,” Ilse says instead.

He feels like a tub of cold water has been dumped on him. “ _What?_ ”

“Honestly, were you planning on keeping it a secret from him too? Even after what your friends and significant others said?”

“I would have—the fact that you told him this second-handedly—he’s probably a wreck right now!”

Ilse doesn’t respond, and Prussia squirms. He tries to shove any thoughts about Germany aside, just as he’s been doing with those regarding Austria and Hungary, but—

_God, he’s probably so mad at me._

“For this place being a mansion,” Ilse eventually says. “It’s pretty barren.”

It’s true. There’s just the table they’re sitting at, a lonesome, beat-up beanbag chair, and a ratty couch in this basement. That’s it.

“Switzerland is cheap,” Prussia replies.

“But the country…has money.”

“Switzerland, Basch, whatever you want to call him—the person, he’s the cheapest dude I’ve ever met. It doesn’t matter if the country has money or not; he just refuses to spend it on anything if he doesn’t have to.”

“Ah.”

“Liechtenstein always tries to get him to splurge, but it never works. Anything remotely expensive here is probably because of her.” 

Someone else yells something.

Prussia rubs his face. “So, are you supposed to be telling me anything important right now?”

Ilse shakes her head. “Mainly, we Nation Advisors just came here to give you your suitcases and ask what other belongings you want. But I already took care of that with you, so…we’re pretty much finished.”

Prussia nods.

“I would really like it, though, if you’d write some bucket list stuff.”

He feels exhausted. “What’s the point if you won’t even tell me about yourself?”

She sighs. “Fine. I became a Nation Advisor because of my father. He worked for the government in West Germany. I never knew my mother. Asking about her was taboo. But I loved my father, even though I barely saw him at times.”

Prussia frowns.

“I wanted to get involved in government so I could see him. It was a shitty reason, but…” She covers her face. “I don’t know. At first, I worked the frontdesk of this crappy local government building; then I became an aide for a politician, and then my father…”

Prussia scrunches up his eyebrows when he sees her pained expression.

“He…committed suicide,” she eventually says. “In front of me. I was a mess and had no purpose, but then they gave me this job. I don’t know. I’m not really supposed to talk about this…”

“Ilse…”

“My dad was Ludwig’s Nation Advisor. The government killed my mother because they believed she was a threat, or at least that’s what my dad thought, though I don’t think he could ever prove it.” Ilse rubs her face. “Michael Haase took his job before I was fit for it, but then we found you in Hungary against all odds, so we became partners.”

“He retired after five-ish years, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why not you?”

Ilse gives a broken smile. “Because then what the hell would I do?”

“Get another job?”

“Nation Advisors can’t just leave like that.”

“I thought…” Prussia frowns. “I thought that was just the case for the American and Russian ones.”

Ilse laughs sharply. “No.”

“Wait, but what’s Haase doing, then?”

“Desk job shit; still working for the government.”

Prussia swallows.

“All Nation Advisors have led miserable lives. You have to lead one to be coerced into taking this job. Maybe that’s why we’re all being locked up in that stupid goddamn hotel.”

“Every single one of you?”

“Every Nation Advisor that’s still alive and isn’t missing, yeah.”

“Why, though? Like I know Robert mentioned they’re afraid you’ll help leak information, but it seems a little harsh…”

Ilse shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“How the fuck did you meet Robert, by the way?”

“I was panicking in the hallway, and he approached me and asked if I was okay.” She frowns.

“Oh.”

“For whatever reason, half of you seem to hate his guts, but he’s been very nice to me.”

Someone bangs on the basement door.

“They’re making us leave in five minutes!” a voice calls out in English.

“Okay,” Ilse mumbles.

“Who’s ‘they?’” Prussia asks.

She rubs her temples. “Security, probably.”

“Security?”

“The Russians and Americans have set up a perimeter around the property.”

“Ah…”

Ilse sighs and stands up.

“Thanks for telling me that little bit about yourself,” Prussia mumbles.

She gives a small smile. “It actually felt good, so thank you.”

They make eye contact.

“Please, though—write some more stuff down on your list.”

Prussia looks away. “I’ll try.”

“And text me when you get low on pain meds. You should have enough, but…and keep me updated on your thumb. And don’t get your gauze wet. When you take a shower, put a plastic bag around—”

“I know,” he interrupts, staring at it, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.

_If I had any courage, I would have just dissolved right then and there._

“—installed.”

Prussia blinks. “Repeat that.”

“I’m going to have someone install faster Internet. People are coming out tomorrow.”

He abruptly stands up. “Holy shit, really!?”

Ilse laughs. “Yeah.”

“Thank you so much. Shit.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“Who’s even paying for it?”

“The Americans. Robert helped me set it up, so.”

Prussia hugs her. She seems surprised at first; then hugs him back.

The other Nations and their advisors are in the kitchen when they get upstairs.

“Next Monday, on the 27th, is when training will start,” America’s advisor says as Prussia and Ilse walk into the room. She’s a young black woman that, like Ilse, looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

America nods, Japan hovering next to him. He has a new pair of glasses on.

“Alright, see you Gilbert,” Ilse murmurs, following the American woman. They’re the last two to leave.

“What time is it?” South Korea mutters once they’re gone.

Canada takes out his phone. “Noon-ish.”

“I guess we should make lunch,” Taiwan almost whispers.

The binder is still open on the kitchen table. Someone has flipped back to the pictures of the female Nations.

* * *

 

... 

_~~1.) Learn more about Ilse~~ _

_2.)_

... 

Prussia has no idea what to write.

It’s 6 PM, and Canada and France are cooking dinner. England wanted to help. He isn’t allowed to leave his spot at the kitchen table.

Prussia is currently in the attached living room, on the couch, staring at his stupid list. The TV is on for background noise.

They’re all sprawled out in different spots. Spain is next to Prussia on the couch, doing something with his phone while America and Japan are on the floor, reading. China and Russia are near them, looking at a tablet as Taiwan and South Korea scribble on a piece of paper. At one point they were playing tic-tac-toe—pathetically, in Prussia’s opinion—with Hong Kong. He’s been MIA for the past hour, though, apparently taking a long-ass shower.

Taiwan holds up a drawing to show South Korea. “Look, it’s a horse.”

“That is the ugliest goddamn horse I’ve ever seen,” he responds.

“Not everyone is a gifted artist, Yong-Soo.”

A really random memory clicks in Prussia’s mind.

“Mei,” he asks. Taiwan makes a noise of acknowledgment. “Did you ever end up horseback riding? Because during the road trip…” he trails off.

She blinks. “No. …NO! I never did—I’ve still never ridden a stupid horse once! Ever!”

China looks up. “You could have just…asked.”

She gapes.

“No one’s ever said you couldn’t ride. There are a couple of nice barns throughout the country.”

Taiwan looks like her world’s exploding. “I could have always…”

Hong Kong walks into the room, his hair clinging to his neck. “You’ve never ridden before?”

“No! Alfred promised he would take me, but.”

America almost grimaces. “Yeah, political relations did a 180, huh.”

Japan is still reading, but he looks angry.

“Riding isn’t _that_ great,” Hong Kong mutters, sitting down next to her and South Korea, who’s drawing again.

“Well, I wouldn’t know!”

“Hong Kong, you ride?” Prussia asks.

“Yeah.” That’s all he provides as an answer.

“We used to do polo a lot,” England says, and Hong Kong nearly jumps. He cautiously walks into the room. “And go on these weekend outings. Matthew was awful.”

“Hey!”

“You were, uh, pretty good, Kha Loung,” England continues, ignoring him.

Hong Kong looks tongue-tied.

Prussia stares at him, remembering Spain’s words of how _they_ can try to make the best of this situation.”

“I’m pretty sure I could convince someone to let us go horseback riding,” he pipes up.

Spain looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “How?”

He grins. “I have cancer.”

That causes everyone to tense up.

Prussia continues. “See, look at how all of you just reacted. It’s my trump card. If I use that excuse, then I’m sure we can go.”

“We’re here because we committed treason,” Russia nearly spits. “So don’t conveniently forget that Alfred and I were just tortured.”

America fidgets.

“You having cancer’s not going to persuade anyone to let us just do— _whatever_.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I’m pretty sure it’s the reason we’re getting better Internet tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?” South Korea asks, his head snapping up. Taiwan snatches his drawing of a horse and stares at it in awe.

“Yeah. Ilse—my Nation Advisor—she got it approved.”

“Really?” Japan asks. He’s rubbing America’s hand, who looks pale now.

Taiwan drops the picture. “So if you got that, then you could—we really could go riding! That’d be so great! Oh my God.” She hits Hong Kong. “You could teach me how to do it!”

He’s blushing. “Yeah…”

Prussia looks at her and grins. “I’ll see what I can do.”

... 

_2.) Go horseback riding with everyone_

... 

* * *

 

Prussia switches rooms once it’s time for bed.

France and England take the one he was originally in with Austria and Hungary since it has a king-sized bed, and he and Spain, in turn, get France and England’s old room.

It’s 1 AM. Spain and Prussia dicked around for a bit, desperately trying to pretend like everything was normal until he fell asleep.

Prussia is on his phone.

He’s staring at the list he’s typed up thus far, which has been somewhat of a chore since he only has one working hand.   

> 1.) Learn more about Ilse
> 
> 2.) Go horseback riding with everyone
> 
> 3.) Learn more about Hong Kong and Taiwan. (?) I guess
> 
> 4.) And then probably China. And .Russia.
> 
> 5.) Tell Antonio he needs to do something about his snoring problem. 

Because it’s really obnoxious right now.    

> 6.) This is just the Learn More About People list--but Robert. Why is he nice to Ilse? The world is full of mysteries

His left index finger hovers over his keyboard until the phone vibrates.

He’s so startled he nearly drops it. 

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Your stuff should be arriving tomorrow I packed everything up in boxes I hope I grabbed everything and everything was from our Berlin apartment since that’s where we were last

Prussia scrunches up his eyebrows, not even sure if they’re allowed to text each other.   

> > **Gilbert** : Ilse told me already
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Thanks though
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Ilse also told me a lot of things
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Like that you hae have cancer
> 
> > **Ludwig** : And have been hiding medictationn from me
> 
> > **Ludwig** : for a long time
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Ludwig, are you drunk?
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Gil, this is Feliciano. Yes, he is. But, you should be resting right now, shouldn’t you? It’s 1 AM.
> 
> > **Gilbert** : ?? Why are you with him?
> 
> > **Ludwig** : It was ultimately concluded that those who were involved in the plan, but didn’t do anything significant enough, were allowed to just leave the assembly building and go back to their countries where punishment would be given out on an individual basis.
> 
> > **Ludwig** : The information being leaked and the Jordan bombings have nothing to do with us or our countries, so
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Lovino and I aren’t facing any consequences because our government is a mess and doesn’t care. Ludwig also isn’t facing any.
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Hence, Lovino and I are in Berlin right now with him since he’s a fucking mess, Gil
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Thanks you don’t need to get all serious on me
> 
> > **Ludwig** : What--want me to type like this? Like everything’s okay?
> 
> > **Ludwig** : ~vee~ I’m super glad you kept everything a secret from us Mr. Prussia!! uwu
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Feli
> 
> > **Ludwig** : o(*^▽^*)o
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Ludwig is fuckign wasted rn 

Prussia is getting pissed off.

> > **Gilbert** : Do you think I /wanted/ it to be this way??
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Roderich and Liz are also here
> 
> > **Ludwig** : We’re at your Berlin apartment-- all fo your stuff packed up neatly and shipped away! 

He grits his teeth.  

> > **Ludwig** : And Roderich has finally stopped crying. And Liz is trying to help Ludwig rn
> 
> > **Gilbert** : What do you even want from me
> 
> > **Ludwig** : A clear explanation, from you, to Ludwig. 

Prussia’s phone vibrates as he’s typing a response.  

> [Lovino hat dich ein...]

He opens up the new text message.  

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Lovino** : Hey, Feli is drunk btw. I saw him furiously texting someone and thought it could be you. I understand the difficult situation you’re in and wish you luck. I talked to Toni. Why the fuck are you guys still allowed to freely text anyone when you’re being held hostage? I don’t really know what to say. Uh--Stop texting Feli and just go to bed.
> 
> > **Lovino** : Also Toni told me you two are sharing a room. lmao have fun with his snoring
> 
> > **Lovino** : also
> 
> > **Lovino** : if anyone can beat the cancer, it’s you

Italy sends another message.   

> > **Ludwig** : adskljfldkajalksdjfalkjfsd

Prussia locks his phone and drops it on the floor. 

* * *

 

He can’t sleep.

His dreams are an incomprehensible nightmare. He’s berated with memories of his bloody hand and the sensation of it dissolving. There are also images of Hungary and Austria’s faces. They’re crying. Sometimes they twist and morph and demand things of him. Russia and America are there too; bloody, in pain. They’re screaming. They’re suffering. It’s Prussia’s fault. Everything is.

Hitler’s figure appears, and clipboard man’s assistant starts shrieking. The piece of paper with Stalin’s signature is hanging over his bed in Korea.

Now there’s a family crying. They’re being burned alive by some Teutonic Knights. Prussia can’t see their faces clearly, but he knows them. He knows them. Why?

 _I should have died with you_.

“Gilbert, run!” a woman screams. She’s then impaled.

A little girl, maybe ten-years-old, grabs Prussia’s hand, and they sprint. The Teutonic Knights laugh. They shoot an arrow through her chest.

Prussia is cornered. A knight is raising his sword.

“You should dissolve, Prussia,” Bavaria whispers from behind him.

The knight is gone. “No,” Prussia yells.

Bavaria gets bigger. All the other German Nation Avatars appear with him. “You should dissolve,” they chant.

“No!”

The chorus of their cries grows louder and louder and louder—

* * *

 

_“Don’t dissolve on us!” Hungary screamed._

_Prussia couldn’t make eye contact. He stared at the shitty bed the doctor ordered him to lie on, trying not to focus on his newly bandaged hand._

_“Shit, get chemo. Fight this! Fucking fight this!”_

_“Liz,” Austria cut in, his voice cracking. “Stop.”_

_“No! I refuse to accept that after all this time—no!”_

_“I’m sorry,” Prussia whispered._

_Hungary started sobbing. Austria broke down after her._

* * *

 

 _21. April 2015_  

Someone is shaking him.

He abruptly wakes up, seeing Spain stand over him with his eyes red.

“What the fuck?” Prussia chokes. The light is on.

Spain shudders, shaking as he grabs Prussia’s right hand.

The gauze is soaked with blood.

“I think you started dissolving in your sleep,” he blurts out.

Prussia is suddenly hit with an immense amount of pain that washes over him in a wave. He makes a noise, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

Spain seems frazzled. “Fuck. Pain meds. You need—” He jerks away and bolts out of the room.

Prussia’s tan gauze is quickly turning bright red, and he has no idea what to do. He feels himself going into shock.

Spain runs back inside. For whatever goddamn reason, China and Russia are with him.

“I knocked on the wrong door,” he blurts out, seeming like he’s about to have a panic attack. He thrusts Prussia’s medicine bag at him. “Your pills. I don’t know which ones—”

“They’re in the kitchen,” Prussia says through gritted teeth.

Spain sprints out of the room.

“Should we call Ilse?” China asks Russia, his face devoid of emotion.

“No, here.” He walks over to Prussia. “I’m going to unwrap your gauze.”

Prussia can only muster a forced, “What?”

“It needs to be changed. There are extra supplies on your nightstand, anyway.”

“Since when do you know how to wrap a wound?” China asks. He sounds so fucking calm.

“Katya taught me.”

Both Russia and China are in their underwear, and Prussia feels uncomfortable, scared, and slightly hysterical.

Just as Russia grabs the clean gauze, Spain sprints back into the room, out of breath. He’s holding three pill bottles and a glass of water. Half of it has spilled on his shirt.

Russia crouches down next to Prussia, and suddenly he can’t breathe.

“It’s going to be okay,” Spain chokes out.

Russia says something.

China replies.

Spain frantically gestures.

And Prussia can’t understand them.

He starts hyperventilating. Spain runs over and tries to comfort him, but he drops the pill bottles and glass of water in the process. The glass shatters. Spain freaks out. Prussia still can’t understand him. Russia unwraps his gauze. His thumb is bleeding.

It’s _bleeding_.

The corners of his vision are turning black. Spain grabs his shoulder.

Prussia passes out.

* * *

 

He wakes with a jolt, realizing he’s on the couch in the living room. Voices are coming from the kitchen, but he can’t distinguish who’s who.

He tries to sit up, getting startled when Hong Kong and Taiwan make a noise.

“Is he awake?” Spain asks as he and France run over.

Prussia realizes he just understood Spanish.

He starts laughing.

France looks concerned. “Gil—”

He starts crying.

They pull him into a hug.

* * *

 

He somehow exhausts himself so much that he falls asleep.

When he wakes again, it’s 8 AM. Spain and France are on the floor next to him, their eyes closed.

Prussia watches for a bit, then sighs and nudges them.

They immediately spring up.

“Are you okay?” France rushes out.

Prussia clears his throat. “I’m better now.”

“Good,” Spain says, his voice shaking. “You really scared—good.”

Prussia has no idea what to say. He doesn’t want to tell them about his…episode. He’s fine now. They don’t need to worry. Yeah.

The two are peering at him expectantly.

“I want to brush my teeth,” he ends up mumbling.

Both give a tired nod.

* * *

 

Everyone desperately tries to act like last night didn’t happen, but it’s hard.

Getting the fast Internet, though, provides a welcomed distraction. 

* * *

 

Prussia’s personal items come later in the day.

“You have a Wii-U!?” America exclaims. He sounds like he’s about to cry.

Prussia cracks a smile and nods as England rifles through a box of chargers. “Bloody hell; how many of these did Germany pack you?”

He shrugs, kicking a suitcase full of clothing aside.

“Holy shit, there’s a flat screen TV in this one,” Hong Kong exclaims, staring at the box he just opened.

“No more 60’s television!” America cheers, his expression strained. Japan murmurs something to him.

Prussia feels a weird pit in his stomach.

* * *

 

He doesn’t want to sleep.

“I can watch over you the entire night,” Spain blurts out. They’ve been sitting in silence for a while now, dreading everything.

“Antonio, you need to rest too.”

The light above them is making an annoying buzzing sound.

Prussia tries to smile. He fidgets with his bed sheets. “Last night was just a freak episode.” He forces out a laugh. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Spain frowns.

* * *

 

_22. April 2015_

It’s 3 AM, and Prussia hasn’t slept a wink. It’s a stupid idea, but he’s trying to exhaust himself to the point where he’s so tired that he won’t dream.

He’s been on his phone ever since Spain passed out, but is quickly getting bored. He can only click on the same four apps so many times.

Eventually, he heads downstairs. There’s not much to do, though, so he resorts to screwing around on the Apple TV.

He gets startled when someone comes into the kitchen nearly two hours later.

“Why are you up?” he chirps, trying to sound friendly when he walks into the kitchen.

Russia nearly slams his head against the cabinet. He’s making coffee. “Jesus Christ.”

“Morning!”

“Why the fuck are you up?”

Prussia waves his good hand. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, me too.”

“Where’s China?”

“Taking a shower.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Russia faces him. “What are you doing?”

Prussia tries to act nonchalant. “Just trying to be friendly here, friend. Jeeze.”

“What do you want?” His voice is flat.

Prussia deflates. “I’m dying.”

“Fantastic.”

He ignores him. “So I have this stupid bucket list, and one of the things on there is to get to know you and China better.”

“…Why?”

“Because despite everything, I still don’t know you two that well?”

Russia rubs his temples. “I’m really not in the mood to chat right now.”

“Why? Are you having nightmares too?”

He glares.

“I mean, you and America were just—”

“Enough,” Russia hisses. He grabs a mug and fills it up with coffee. “Don’t you dare bring that up casually with Alfred, either. I already made that mistake, and he’s already turning into enough of a mess.”

Well since this conversation is a dead-end, Prussia opts for a new tactic. “Why are you in love with China?”

Russia chokes on his drink.

“Like, is it his looks, personality—”

“This house could be bugged,” he hisses. “And not everyone has the luxury of coming from a country where homosexuality is decriminalized, so shut the fuck up.”

“Ilse said it wasn’t.”

“Yeah. Alright.”

Prussia looks away. “Fine. Don’t talk to me.”

“I don’t even know why you’d want to.”

“Because we have a shitty past? Because even with the road trip and you and China breaking me out of Siberia, I still barely know anything personal about you?”

There’s a long pause.

Russia eventually rubs his face and sighs. “I—I really like Yao, okay? He’s—I don’t know. Please don’t make me talk about this.” His face is turning red. “You already saw us when we were intoxicated. That should be enough of an answer.”

“What about us being intoxicated?” China asks, walking into the room. His hair is wet.

Russia makes a noise.

“Why do you look all embarrassed?”

Prussia smirks, feeling elated Russia at least tried to open up to him. “He’s in love with you.”

“God, shut up,” he hisses, covering his face.

China seems endeared; then wary. “This house could be bugged.”

Prussia waves his hand. “It isn’t.” He trusts Ilse. He knows she would tell him if it was.

China frowns. “Fine.” He then turns to Russia, his demeanor instantly changing. “Relax.”

“Sorry,” Russia mumbles, lowering his hands. “I got some tea out for you. The kettle’s boiling.”

Prussia mutely watches them; then leaves after he feels a pit in his stomach, realizing how much he misses Austria and Hungary. Watching those two interact reminds him of them.

After a while of sitting on the couch in the living room and feeling sorry for himself, he goes back to the kitchen.

“I want to move rooms,” Russia grumbles when Prussia pokes his head around the corner. He and China are standing by the counter.

“Ivan, there’s nowhere to go.”

“I know, but shit, if I have to hear Alfred scream one more time…” His voice actually breaks. “It’s not helping my own memories.”

China pulls him into a hug. “You’re here. You’re fine.”

“Fuck, Yao, but this Nation Army thing really freaks me out. And the fact that there—there are others _that we missed_ —”

“There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I should have shot him in the head.”

China squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why are you sorry?”

“I told you to move on. If anything, all of this is my—”

Russia kisses him, causing Prussia to feel like a fucking creep for watching now.

“Your hair smells nice,” Russia breathes once he pulls away.

China’s eyes are gooey. “I used that shampoo you like.”

Russia’s fingers start grazing up and down his spine, and he lets out a noise.

“Why,” Hong Kong says from behind Prussia.

He nearly jumps.

“God. Interrupt them, or they’ll never stop. Trust me.” He walks into the kitchen.

“Kha Loung, we can hear every word you’re saying,” China mutters. Russia is now massaging his nape.

“I don’t care.”

“Real rich of you to act like you’re above us,” Russia sneers, lifting his head. “With your raging crush on—”

“Shut up!”

Prussia blindly walks back to the living room, not sure what to do with himself.

* * *

 

The next couple of days are lazy.

Everyone’s belongings arrive on the 23rd, so that keeps them all occupied for a while.

After that, though, the days blur together.

Prussia keeps himself exhausted by staying up late every night, going on his laptop and aimlessly scrolling through different websites. There are times where he feels somewhat impulsive and almost messages Germany.

But that never happens.

The only contact any of them really have with the outside world is Ilse, who stops by every other day with groceries. But her visits are short, and Prussia can never find the right moment to ask her about horseback riding.

So he just continues pushing through each day as the 27th looms closer and closer. And everyone deals with each other, but…

It’s clear they’re all getting anxious and cranky.

* * *

 

_25. April 2015_

They’re having dinner when the doorbell rings.

Prussia, not too thrilled with tonight’s frozen pizza, stands up to answer it, thinking Ilse might be there. He also just wants to get out of the living room. For the past five minutes, Canada has been patting his pizza with a napkin to get all the grease out of it while South Korea loudly chews on an ice cube. Both are starting to grate on him.

Robert being at the door is a surprise.

“Uh, hi,” Prussia says in English, holding it open.

“Hi.”

“Anything wrong?”

Robert shakes his head. He looks just about as awful as everyone in the living room. “I just need to make some announcements.”

“Are you going to tell us anything life-changing?” Prussia asks as he steps inside.

“No. Just general announcements—like the schedule for tomorrow and upcoming weeks of training.”

“Ah.”

Everyone immediately looks up when they come back.

Hong Kong pauses the TV just as South Korea bites down on an ice cube. “The fuck are you here for?” he asks in English, spitting out the pieces into a cup.

Robert has circles under his eyes. “To make some announcements.” He then frowns when he glances at America. “You look like shit.”

America forces out a laugh. “I’m fine.”

Robert seems twitchy. “Do you need those pills again?”

“No.”

“Because I can get them for you if you think it’ll help with the nightmares.”

“There’s medication for that?” Japan blurts out, somewhat desperately.

America looks nauseous. “I really don’t want to talk about this in front of everyone.”

Robert sighs. “Alright, fine.”

His pants vibrate, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Tomorrow,” he says, opening them, “before training, you’re going to meet with some people back at the UN assembly building. They’re the ones who are going to be in charge of the program.”

He gets no response.

“You’ll be picked up at 8 AM, so be ready. You can dress casually. It doesn’t really matter.”

America’s skin is pale. “How long will we be there?”

“Two hours at most.”

There’s a long pause.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Robert mumbles. “Are there any other questions before I leave?”

Canada frowns. “Yeah. What’s the deal with texting?”

“Anything you send’s being monitored, but I thought that’d be obvious. It’s only by your Nation Advisors, though, so it doesn’t matter. The higher-ups _really_ aren’t concerned about petty stuff like this right now.”

“Then we’re not being watched 24/7?” Russia asks cautiously.

Robert shakes his head. “No. Everyone thinks you’re being cooperative right now, so there isn’t a reason to. But, if they ever suspect you, then, well…” He coughs. “Anything else?”

Prussia feels impulsive. “Yeah. Can we go horseback riding?”

“Excuse me?”

“Horseback riding,” Prussia repeats.

Robert looks baffled, Taiwan appears anxious, and everyone else is staring at Prussia like he’s either an idiot or crazy.

“I don’t—why?”

“’Cause I want to.”

“I want to do a lot of things too.”

“See, but, I’m dying.”

“Cool. Me too.”

“Please?” Prussia tries.

“ _Please_?” Robert rubs his face. “That’d be something I’d have to ask the higher-ups,” he eventually says. “No one here trusts me, so I can’t—”

“I wonder why,” South Korea sneers.

A vein forms on his forehead. “No one does because I helped with your goddamn plan!”

There’s an awkward silence. Robert’s pocket vibrates again.

He suddenly looks anxious. “I need to go. America, I’m getting you those pills.”

He starts to protest, but Robert ignores him.

Now he’s rambling to himself. “That’s something I can do. By myself. Alone. Yeah.”

Prussia frowns. “Are you al—”

Robert’s pocket vibrates again.

He nearly bolts out of the house.

* * *

 

“Alfred, the pills will be good!” Japan tries.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO ON MEDICATION AGAIN! I’M FINE.”

“You’re not—”

England has to de-escalate their argument. “Alfred, let’s go outside, okay?”

America is a mess. Japan swallows.

England looks apologetic when he leads him away.

* * *

 

By 7 PM, America seems to have regained his composure.

Japan, on the other hand, is on edge. Normally he’ll put up with South Korea’s antics, but at the moment it seems like he can’t even stand him breathing.

They’re all in the kitchen, minus Taiwan and Hong Kong, who’ve scampered off somewhere. America is at the table with England, France, and Canada, joking around with each other while everyone else finishes up some chores.

Russia and China are the ones washing dishes, and Prussia and Spain are drying. South Korea and Japan are _supposed_ to be wiping down the counters and taking out the trash.

But they bump into each other, and suddenly it’s World War III.

“Watch where you’re going,” Japan hisses.

“Fuck off,” South Korea bites back, moving away. He accidentally knocks Prussia’s arm, though, which causes him to drop the cup he’s drying.

It rolls on the ground.

“Sorry,” South Korea rushes out immediately.

Japan picks it up and flings it at his head.

Thankfully, the cup’s plastic. But Japan throws it hard, so when South Korea dodges, it cracks after hitting the wall.

The room goes silent.

South Korea explodes. “The hell is your problem!?”

“You! Everything you do is so annoying!”

America fidgets. “Kiku.”

“ _Me?_ You’re the one who’s been acting like an emotional brat this past week!”

“Yong-Soo.”

Japan’s eyes flash red. “That’s a bit rich, coming from you! Why don’t you go cry like usual!”

“Guys.”

“ _I’m_ not the one who got wasted the other day and became a clingy piece of shit!”

“At least I don’t hold petty grudges against Nation Advisors who are trying to help!”

“You weren’t even there in Korea! You didn’t see how he fucking shot—”

“You’re always so needlessly held up on the past! God, I _hate_ you!”

“Maybe I’m hung up on it because it was so fucking shitty! Like, hey! Remember when you _watched_ me get—”

China tries to butt in. “Both of you!”

“You’re always so held up on little details that you become _infuriating_!” Japan spits. “You become so obsessive that you refuse to see how things have changed, which is how your crush on Yao—”

“ENOUGH!” China screams.

South Korea is shaking, and Japan’s face is scrunched up in disgust. Both of their eyes are red.

Prussia is stunned, surprised that exploded from seemingly nothing.

“You two need to calm the hell down,” China hisses. “Go talk outside until you sort this shit out. We _really_ don’t need to deal with this right now.”

Japan just seems done. “You’re not my guardian.”

“You’re right; I’m not. Believe me, you’ve made it fucking clear.”

America stands up, and the table awkwardly gets pushed back. “Let’s take a walk,” he blurts out. “The three of us.”

Japan and South Korea side-eye each other, clearly not thrilled with that suggestion.

“Alfred,” England warns. “Let them sort out their own shit.”

South Korea glares at him. “Fuck you. Don’t act like you’re any better.”

America grabs both of their arms. “Let’s go take a walk!” he repeats. He then drags them out the door.

“Well, that was fun, but I’m going to lock myself in my room now,” Canada mutters, standing up.

Prussia feels like doing the same.

* * *

 

He doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the night, and Spain stays with him. They’re silent, but the company is nice.

Around 1 AM, though, long after Spain is asleep, Prussia gets a really weird text from an unknown number.    

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Unbekannt** : Hello my English is not very good I apologize. But My name is Halim Anwar. I am your director! The program is my creation! I apologize for sending a message so sudden, but you’re interesting.

Prussia stares at the message.      

> > **Unbekannt** : You see I should not be talking to you, but I am desperate. You see. It took me awhile to get a job like this. To know what you are! Nations! Wow!
> 
> > **Unbekannt** : I am sending this from a secure messaging system. So it will not be tracked. I talked to your person in charge--Ilse--very nice woman! She says she doesn’t read your messages, and I was like oh boy!
> 
> > **Unbekannt** : You see, my niece
> 
> > **Unbekannt** : I think she turned into a Nation.
> 
> > **Unbekannt** : I know she turned into a Nation 

Prussia starts typing, but he’s interrupted when the person sends another text.    

> > **Unbekannt** : How well do you know Kazimir?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbekannt means unknown.
> 
> There are a lot of characters, so I’m sorry if some are being thrown to the side. Mainly, England, Canada, Hong Kong, and Taiwan right now. They’ll get some much-needed attention, bear with me.


	13. VI. Kazimir, Robert, Palestine

(26 aпрель 2015 года)

_26 April 2015_

Kazimir can’t sleep.

He sits up, feeling as if the walls are closing in on him, and compulsively glances at the door. It’s still latched shut. _As a precaution,_ is what he’s been telling himself. _Just for extra security._

There’s a compound full of Nations outside of it.

His electric wheelchair is right next to his bed. Using a wall bar, he scoots forward and lowers himself into it, his muscles aching in the process, then maneuvers in front of his computer.

He knows Robert hates it when he messages him at night or about anything personal.

Fuck, though, he really wants to talk to him.

> > **Дата Вход** : 26.04.15
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Are you awake?

No response.

He grits his teeth and checks the time.

_See. It’s midnight in Switzerland. He’s probably asleep. No, he doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m being clingy. Or he could be under watch. Shit, I could be threatening his safety—_

Kazimir’s pager vibrates.

It’s hooked up to the messaging system; if Robert sends him something or vice versa, their pagers will vibrate and let them know. 

> **Robert** : Maybe
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Where are you right now?
> 
> **Robert** : I’m back at the hotel where my laptop is. Where else would I be?
> 
> **Robert** : What do you even want? We talked earlier today
> 
> **Robert** : Well, I guess yesterday now

Kazimir sucks in some air, his hand hovering over the keyboard.

_Why did I even message him? Because I can’t sleep? Because I’m frightened?_

_Because I’m using him as a replacement for Frank?_

_No, he’s…_

> **Robert** : Kazimir?

_Is it because I’m petrified the US government will do something to him?_

> **Robert** : It says you’re still online

_Why am I losing sleep over him? How have we gotten to this point? He—He clearly gets annoyed whenever I worry about him. Maybe I’m going insane._

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Sorry, you can go back to sleep now.
> 
> **Robert** : What
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I will also be trying to sleep again. 

He flinches at how stupid he sounds.  

> **Robert** : Wait. Now that I’m not under a time constraint, I can give you a full update on what’s happening. Why don’t I do that? Let me do that
> 
> **Robert** : don’t lgo off

Kazimir feels some stress seep out of him. 

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Okay.
> 
> **Robert** : Tomorrow, at 8 AM, the Nations will be getting picked up to go to a meeting at 8:30
> 
> **Robert** : I have to drive them there, and I’m not too thrilled about it
> 
> **Robert** : But yeah, the whole meeting is just an introduction to the people running the program, including the head of it, Halim Anwar
> 
> **Robert** : Training then starts on Monday. I’ll get the schedules tomorrow. Idk if you want them, but I can send them
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Who is Halim Anwar?
> 
> **Robert** : I’m not entirely sure. He works for the UN, though
> 
> **Robert** : The Nation division obviously
> 
> **Robert** : They brought him in as a neutral body. I heard he’s from Jordan
> 
> **Robert** : But anyway, he seems cooperative enough. Ilse’s talked to him

Kazimir bristles. He feels like this Ilse _bitch_ has been in all of their conversations since Robert has met her.

 _Is_ she _keeping you there?_

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Cooperative enough to persuade?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : and the woman too.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Is she cooperative enough to persuade?
> 
> **Robert** : Look, I told you about Ilse
> 
> **Robert** : I can’t tell her anything until you explain to me what the fuck you plan to do now
> 
> **Robert** : You’ve been stalling ever since you got these Nations
> 
> **Robert** : And don’t tell me you’re going to cause “chaos” that doesn’t mea n anything

_I’m stalling because I don’t know the consequences you’ll face._    

> **Robert** : The information you said you’d leak too--it’s the most mundane shit! It’s Information the public doesn’t even care about! Not one American news outlet has even talked about it – how the fuck is that causing chaos? 

Kazimir swallows.  

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am going to Get revenge
> 
> **Robert** : STOP SAYING THAT FUCKING PHRASE
> 
> **Robert** : God, you’re doing nothing right now. We’re doing nothing here!
> 
> **Robert** : You’re just stalling, Kazimir

_But you know_ why _I am._  

> **Robert** : I don’t
> 
> **Robert** : I’m worreid
> 
> **Robert** : about you
> 
> **Robert** : because the longer you wait the closer they’ll get to finding you and you already know the nation army they want to buidling and like youre just a sitting duck who has no plan

_Oh._   

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please do not worry I do not want you to worry.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I do have a plan, okay?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The first part was stealing this information and faking that I had nukes in my possession.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : And now these governments are frightened. That was the first step, okay?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Second, I am recruiting people--other Nation Advisors--turning them against their governments. The goal is to cause the whole Nation program to collapse from the inside like I said I wanted to do. Yes.
> 
> **Robert** : And then what
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Then what?
> 
> **Robert** : Great, the program collapses. The world knows about Nations. Then what?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Chaos. Satisfaction that Frank would have been happy.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : And we could be together.
> 
> **Robert** : Kazimir
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Robert, please.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am now begging.

Kazimir stares at his computer screen, feeling pathetic.

_Why do I have to care about your fate? Why can’t you be cooperative? Why does everything have to be so difficult?_

_Why am I aching to see you?_

He’s feeling far too conflicted when Robert messages him again.  

> **Robert** : Okay, you
> 
> **Robert** : fine you want
> 
> **Robert** : You want chaos
> 
> **Robert** : but you aren’t quite sure what chaos
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I guess, yes.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : But you
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : We could be together again to do this. We could find a way for you to leave, and then you could be safe, and then I would not be afraid to cause such chaos
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : !
> 
> **Robert** : Kazimir, we’ve been over this-- there’s just no way. I can’t just. I can’t leave here and come to you. Not now

_No, we’d figure it out._

There’s a long pause until Robert sends something else.

> **Robert** : Wait
> 
> **Robert** : I might
> 
> **Robert** : Ugh 

Kazimir’s heart pounds uncomfortably close to how it use to with Frank.  

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : What?
> 
> **Robert** : Okay we
> 
> **Robert** : Why not attack them directly
> 
> **Robert** : The Nation program organizers
> 
> **Robert** : Use the Nations you have in possession and fight back
> 
> **Robert** : Use the Nation Advisors you’ve recruited and have them launch an attack
> 
> **Robert** : All at once or something
> 
> **Robert** : But you need to do this quickly-- while no one is organized yet--before there are terminators nayions

Kazimir has no idea what ‘terminators’ are, but his head starts spinning. 

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You want me to send my Nation Avatars to Switzerland?
> 
> **Robert** : Yeah
> 
> **Robert** : That will cause chaos. That will give the statement you’re looking for and something Frank would have been proud of
> 
> **Robert** : and you have those drugs that block a Nation’s presence from being sensed, so they’ll be invisible to the others
> 
> **Robert** : And if you get security on your side at the UN building, then it could work
> 
> **Robert** : killing everyone in an attack--that’s the chaos. that shows how dissatisfied we all are and how oppressive htey have been. And it could create a diversion or something so ma
> 
> **Robert** : ybe I could

Kazimir’s vision blurs.   

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : How fast should I do this?

_How long do I have until you’re unsafe?_

> **Robert** : I don’t know! This is all your idea!
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : This is your idea.
> 
> **Robert** : I
> 
> **Robert** : I’m just trying to help you figure out what you want to do now. Me-- I
> 
> **Robert** : I don’t care. I really don’t care what happens anymore
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You should.
> 
> **Robert** : at this point, I’m only alive because I’m helping you

Kazimir feels like there’s a balloon in his chest.

> **Robert** : And I
> 
> **Robert** : want you to
> 
> **Robert** : I don’t know ignore that

He doesn’t type anything else.

Kazimir is shaking. 

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Are these meetings for the training program every week?

A pause.   

> **Robert** : No
> 
> **Robert** : But there’s another one scheduled in a month
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Okay
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : What if I attack then?
> 
> **Robert** : Is a month even a realistic timeframe for you to set up anything
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Since I am under time constraint, yes
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I work well under time constraints
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : And because this is for you I will do it no matter what
> 
> **Robert** : Please think about what you type
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I will send my Nations to Switzerland like you said. Have Nation Advisors kill people there. Kill lots of people. They will all suffer. And Chaos. and What Frank would have wanted. And my Nations--they can take you back. They can take you to Palestine, and you can be with me
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Yes? You can be with me
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Right?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please.
> 
> **Казими́р** : We can be safe there together

Kazimir stares at his computer screen, anxiety coating his stomach.

> **Robert** : okay

The wave of emotions that crashes over him is indescribable.  

> **Robert** : I’m going to sleep now
> 
> **Robert** : so send me details later
> 
> [ **Robert** отключается от системы]
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please do not kill yourself 

Kazimir doesn’t think he could go on if that happened.

It’s a terrifying thought.

* * *

 

_April 26, 2015_

Robert stares at his laptop, his heart hammering in his throat.

_Why did I give in, why did I give in, why—_

_Why did I just suggest that whole plan?_

_Fuck, why did I tell him I want to die?_

He violently runs his hands through his thinning hair.

_Why am I helping him? For a purpose? No, that’s—fuck._

_He’s insane. He’s crazy. What he wants to do is ludicrous and has no actual end goal._

_And I know he knows that, but he’s so caught up about wanting revenge for—_

_Fuck._

_I wasn’t supposed to care about him again. Not after what he did and how he indirectly killed Frank. But then—_

_He’s 89. I’m 79. We’re both going to die soon. He should be dead. I should be dead too, but—_

_I want to be with him._

_I_ really _want to be with him._

There’s a knock on his door, and he almost screams.

“Robert?” Ilse asks from the other side.

“C-Coming.”

The light from the hallway causes him to blink.

Ilse wrinkles her nose as he holds the door open. “Why is your window closed? Your room feels like it’s 30 degrees.”

“I have no idea how hot that is,” is what comes out of his mouth.

“Hot. Are you okay? You don’t look good.”

Robert can feel his damp shirt clinging to his back. “I’m fine.”

Ilse scrutinizes him. “Alright…Well, I just wanted to tell you that there’s been a change of plans.”

“With what?”

“Transportation tomorrow. We don’t have to pick up the Nations. We’ll just be meeting them at the UN building.”

Robert blinks. “When do we have to leave here, then?”

“8:15-ish.”

He nods; then smiles, surprised at how easily it comes out. “Thanks for telling me.”

Ilse’s expression turns soft. “No problem.”

They both hover.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she tries again.

The pager in Robert’s pocket feels like it weighs a million pounds. “Yeah.”

He shuts the door after she disappears down the hallway.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He shouldn’t have approached her, but for a bizarre second when she was hunched over, hyperventilating, panicking.

She almost looked like his sister.

Is he just desperate for human interaction? Is she just a new thing to latch onto? First, it was Frank, then America, then her. Not Kazimir, though. Never him. He’s not attached to him. No.

_You just agreed to go to Palestine._

Robert digs his fingernails into his palms until there’s blood.

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰٤/۲۷)

_27 April 2015_

“You have to eat.”

Juhaina’s head is angled down, but she looks up and glares at Mongolia.

“You need strength.”

“I don’t care,” she spits out.

Kyrgyzstan takes a chair next to the table they’re sitting at and props up her feet. “You gotta eat.”

“Go away,” Juhaina mutters.

“Look, just because your girlfriend’s off with Kazakhstan doing God knows what doesn’t mean you have to act like a bitch.”

She clenches her jaw.

They’re all in a small, dark room that’s been dubbed the ‘cafeteria.’ It’s decorated with two tables, one microwave, and a lone crate. That’s it.

“Go away,” Juhaina tries again, pathetically. She feels exhausted.

“Where?” Mongolia asks. “This place isn’t that big.”

“Why not hang out with your other Soviet buddies?”

“Wow! Look who’s being sarcastic today!” Kyrgyzstan sneers.

Mongolia shoots her a warning glance while Juhaina avoids eye contact.

After a period of uncomfortable silence passes, she studies them.

Mongolia’s head is shaved. Her hair—Juhaina found out her gender the other day—is black at a buzz cut length, and her face is round with coal black eyes.

Kyrgyzstan, on the other hand, is gaunt. Her skin is tanner, and she has long, thick black hair that looks like it hasn’t been combed in months. Her eyes are the same shape as Mongolia’s, but they’re lighter, dark brown, framed by her non-existent eyebrows.

They’re all wearing jumpsuits. The fabric is itchy.

Mongolia notices Juhaina looking at her. “What?”

Her eyes move to the ‘food’ in front of her. “Nothing.”

“The fuck even is that?” Kyrgyzstan asks, glancing at her bowl.

“Now you know why I don’t want to eat it,” Juhaina mutters.

“There _is_ real food here. Why is she stuck with this?”

“It was on her chart,” Mongolia says dully.

“Ew. Screw that.” Kyrgyzstan turns to Juhaina. “Do you want some rice?”

She doesn’t really trust her but nods nevertheless.

“Alright, cool. Follow me. There’s some in the storage room, plus shit to cook it in.”

They walk down the dark, twisting hallways for a bit, and Juhaina resents every second of it. Being underground really makes this place feel twice as depressing. She desperately wants to go outside. She’s in Palestine; she’s finally home! Yet, she can’t even see it.

They pass some Nation Advisors.

“What’s your role here?” Kyrgyzstan asks when they’re out of sight.

“Nothing at the moment,” Juhaina mumbles. “I was given an evaluation but determined too ‘emotionally unstable’ to do anything.”

Kyrgyzstan barks out a laugh. “None of us are emotionally stable. What the hell?”

Juhaina shrugs, chewing her lip. “I think their main issue was that I don’t refer to myself as Palestine.”

“Well, I mean, that’s who you are.”

She clenches her fists. “I have a name.”

“And no one cares. No offense, but you need to embrace the fact that you’re a Nation, and the first step is accepting your real name.”

“Juhaina _is_ my real name.”

“Not to the rest of the world.”

Kyrgyzstan flicks on the light when they arrive at the storage room, then immediately starts rifling through some crates. Juhaina watches, not sure what she should be doing, not sure why Kyrgyzstan’s even helping her.

“What’s your role?” she finds herself mumbling a few moments later. Kyrgyzstan looks at her, holding a hotplate. “I mean, I assume you’re important, right?”

She averts eye contact, setting down the hotplate and plugging it in. “Not really. I’m just…a hitman.”

“What?”

“I only know how to kill people, Palestine. That’s all I know how to do. That’s all I’ve been doing my entire life.”

 _Oh_.

Kyrgyzstan grabs a pot. “I’m not smart like Kazakhstan. She’s calm and cool-headed…I’m jealous. She can do more than me. And since your girlfriend is with her, I guess that means she’s smart too. That’s good. At least they’re useful. At least they have a purpose and aren’t floating in the fucking void like we are.”

“I see you’re getting philosophical now,” Mongolia drawls, startling Juhaina. She turns around and sees her standing in the doorway.

“Maybe,” Kyrgyzstan mutters, grabbing a jug of water and dumping some into the pot.

Juhaina bites her lip. “There’s a world out there, you know,” she mumbles after a brief pause.

They look at her.

“There’s a world outside of this basement,” she continues, feeling unsure. “So why are we hiding? Why are we down here? Why are we listening to this man named Kazimir?”

Mongolia leans against the doorframe. “Palestine, no offense, but you really don’t understand anything yet. The outside world is dangerous. The Russian and US governments want us back.”

“And Kazimir is the reason we’re free,” Kyrgyzstan mumbles, holding a bag of rice. “So I’ll listen to whatever he says.

Juhaina scrunches up her eyebrows. “But isn’t he—he doesn’t seem right in the head. I don’t understand why he’s calling the shots.”

“No wonder they claimed you were emotionally unstable,” Mongolia mutters. “You question authority too much.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your girlfriend is the opposite. She’s obedient. That’s why she’s with Kazakhstan.”

“Stop calling her my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, alright. Stop calling yourself Juhaina, and then we’ll have a deal.”

Juhaina closes her eyes and thinks of her uncle, the superhero figure, the myth.

She knows he’s out there somewhere.

And since he is, she won’t ever get rid of this name.

* * *

 

Juhaina and Dalia’s room is the size of a closet.

“How was your day?” Juhaina asks as they both lie down on their one bed, dressed in pajamas. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since the morning.

“Okay,” Dalia murmurs. “A little stressful, but other than that…”

“What’d you do with Kazakhstan?”

“We reviewed a lot of information. I also sat in a meeting with Kazimir.”

Juhaina frowns. “I don’t like him.”

“He wasn’t as loopy as the first time we saw him. I know what you’re thinking, but I understand why people trust him now. He knows a lot. He’s helping us get our…revenge.”

Juhaina sits up. “Revenge against who? Honestly, I’m getting sick of that fucking—”

“Juhaina.”

She tugs at her hair. “I’ve had three separate people mention it to me today.”

Dalia sighs. “Well, it’d be against the people who kept us rotting at that compound.”

“Revenge is what killed my mother, Dalia. The lust for it killed her and others in the process.”

“Then what do you want to do?” Dalia whispers. “We can’t just _leave_. This man rescued us. The least we can do is repay him by following orders.”

Juhaina clenches her jaw. _Uncle is out there, though._

Dalia touches her arm. “Look, I’m wary about doing this too, okay? But we just need to go along with everything right now.”

Juhaina mutters to herself but stops when Dalia scoots closer and leans her head on her shoulder. She feels her heart speed up, but it’s not unpleasant.

“If I think I’m being taken advantage of, I’ll let you know,” Dalia murmurs. “Kazakhstan seems level-headed, so I trust her. And at the moment, we’re just memorizing some documents. To be honest, I don’t really understand them. We were also looking at this floor layout? I don’t know.”

They grow quiet for a bit.

“Make sure you take care of yourself too,” Dalia eventually says.

Juhaina smiles. “Who, me? The emotionally unstable girl?”

“What did you even do today?”

“Well, I spent an uncomfortable amount of time with Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan. Then, I read a book. Croatia was in the same room. That was about the extent of it.”

Dalia snorts.

“I think my plan for tomorrow includes learning how to use the ‘Internet.’ Both Kyrgyzstan and Mongolia seem excited to teach me.”

“That was part of my training today. It’s confusing.”

Juhaina plays with her hair.

“Let’s lie down again,” Dalia murmurs after a bit. “It’s late.”

She sighs. “Okay.”

They fall asleep pressed up against each other.

 


	14. Fight and Resolve

_2015_ _년_ _04_ _월_ _25_ _일_  

South Korea is dragged outside like he’s some unruly 5-year-old.

“Alfred, we don’t even have shoes on!”

He doesn’t respond, only releasing both him and Japan when they’re in the middle of the backyard.

“There’s a lake somewhere, right?” America eventually asks. It’s around 7 PM, so it’s still bright out. “Let’s walk there.”

That’s the absolute last thing South Korea wants to do. He glares, fiddling with his long-sleeved t-shirt. Inside the house was chilly, so that warranted the sleeves and jeans. But outside, the air is oppressively humid.

They trudge forward until they reach the tree line.

“That seems promising,” America says, pointing to a pathway leading through the forest.

South Korea and Japan grunt.

They continue in silence, practically in a single file line. America is in the front, Japan’s behind him, and South Korea’s in the back.

He’s glaring at Japan’s nape.

God, he knows he’s supposed to be calming down right now, but, if anything, he’s only getting angrier and angrier. Now that he has the opportunity to think, suddenly every memory of the Second World War—

_I didn’t even bring it up! I was just—Prussia dropped a fucking cup, and it’s Kiku who started this! He’s the one to blame! Screw him, screw him, screw—_

America trips over a root.

Both South Korea and Japan rush forward, but he starts laughing and waves his hand. “I’m fine.” He sounds drained. “I think my sock is ripped, though.”

South Korea forces out a smile as Japan gently helps him up.

Eventually, they make it to the lake.

It’s pretty big, and there’s a beach surrounding it that’s littered with pebbles. America grabs a few and smiles. “Hey, these are pretty flat.”

He picks one up and throws it as Japan and South Korea hesitantly walk up next to him.

“I’m probably the worst person to be doing this,” he mutters after a bit. “But…”

The waves ripple.

“During…the Second World War, I only saw combat once, and that was D-Day. I did some ariel missions, but I’m not counting those.”

Japan frowns. “Alfred.”

“No, listen. D-Day was hell. It was me, Matt, Arthur, and the rest of the UK. Matt and I were on our own beaches while the UK was on theirs. The entire thing was awful, but we got through it. It was war. It was to be expected.

“After that, I was sent to London—told that I would be staying until we found wherever the fuck Francis was. The other Allies were also stationed there, and I hung out with Arthur, Ivan, and Yao for a month. It was awkward. It was really awkward, but it was war, so we endured.”

South Korea is confused. “What does this—”

America cuts him off. “But then when Francis—it was a normal day. We were dully sitting in some lounge area after breakfast, and then they—they just shoved him in there, no warning at all.

“Francis looked like a corpse. He looked like a literal corpse. And when Arthur tried touching him, he just screamed and curled up into a ball.”

America’s voice cracks. “But, you know what, he’s better now. He’s talked about his experiences, and it’s helped. And that’s the thing; other European Nations have endured things just as bad, but since they’ve talked about their experiences, they’ve moved on.

“I don’t think I’ve heard any of you Asian Nations open up about what you’ve gone through once.”

A breeze picks up.

“Because I don’t want to,” South Korea eventually forces out. “We don’t want to.”

America bites his lip. “I don’t want to talk about what I went through in the latter half of the Cold War either, but…it’s helped. Really. So I think that if you can understand each other’s situations, then it will help too.”

“…”

“If—If you want, I can leave.”

“Don’t,” Japan and South Korea say at the same time.

The breeze dies down.

South Korea can’t make eye contact. Being out here discussing this with everything else going on—it’s the last thing he wants to do. They don’t need to talk about it. It isn’t relevant to anything!

_Kiku’s the one who threw the fucking—_

“I was in Germany,” Japan forces out, “when I first learned about the Nation Experiments.”

South Korea’s eyes shoot to him.

_Stop._

“The—The Germans showed us, the Axis delegation, a demonstration.”

_Kiku, stop._

“It was awful. It was really awful, but at the time I didn’t think it would affect me in any way. So once that was over, I tried to forget about it, even after Gilbert was…dissected in front of us.”

“But he was an Axis Nation,” is what leaves South Korea’s mouth.

Japan squeezes his eyes shut. “It didn’t matter. He spoke out.”

America rubs his back.

“Feliciano help me stay distracted. Both me and Ludwig. Any moment the two of us would start to doubt everything or feel awful and unsure, he’d be there, acting like everything was okay, sending us letters.” Japan takes a deep breath. “We could send each other letters for a while, but then that abruptly stopped about three years into the war.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” South Korea hisses.

Japan opens his eyes and stares at the ground. “After that, I was isolated. I was completely isolated except for interactions with my Nation Advisor, and that caused me to grow cynical and hate everything.” He grips his hair. “That’s why I acted how I did.”

Something snaps within South Korea. “ _That’s not an excuse_.”

“I know.”

“You were just as _fucked up_ before the war!”

“I know.”

“You smashed a vase over Yao’s head!”

“I—I know.”

“ALL YOU DID WAS STAND THERE—”

“WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE? I JUST TOLD YOU I WATCHED GILBERT GET DISSECTED IN FRONT OF ME FOR SPEAKING OUT.”

Both of their eyes are red.

“It was entertainment to you!” South Korea screeches. “You stood there and _smiled_.”

“Did I smile when Kha Loung screeched for Arthur!?”

The memory makes South Korea nauseous.

“Did I smile when you shoved my Nation Advisor, and the soldiers freaked out, pummeled all of you to the ground, then _shot me in the back?_ ”

“Hey,” America murmurs when his voice breaks, rubbing his nape.

That little action makes South Korea taste bile.

“I was happy when I saw your corpse,” is what leaves his mouth.

 _You don’t_ deserve _to be comforted._

Japan doesn’t look at him as America tenses up. “I wanted the atomic bombs to kill me. Yong-Soo, you don’t know how much I wanted to fucking die then.”

 _How come you get to have someone in love with you? How come your pathetic crush worked itself out? After all the shit I’ve gone through, somehow you end up happier_ and _with_ _someone?_

Japan covers his face.

_How come it’s your country that was able to escape colonization?_

“I hate the past,” Japan eventually mutters, dropping his hands. “I hate when you bring it up because I hate thinking about it. I hate that you’re hung up on it as if I’m somehow not regretful of my actions and what my country did. And any time I look at you when I feel stressed or angry, I’m reminded of those times.”

South Korea swallows.

“I’m sorry. For it. For throwing the cup. What’s happening here just made those emotions boil over.”

“What, so looking at me makes you feel disgusted?”

Japan glares. “No. You’re blatant obsessiveness over the past does.”

“I know I get fixated on it, okay?” he hisses. “But how can I not when everything was once so uncomplicated for us!?”

“That’s easy for you to say since you weren’t isolated for two hundred years!”

South Korea looks away, balling his fists.

“I know I’m obsessive, okay?” he mumbles after America murmurs something. “That’s how my stupid fucking crush on Yao developed.”

“…”

“And maybe I’m fixated on the past because things were actually good for me then.”

Japan gives him a look. “Are they not for you now?”

“I don’t know!” South Korea explodes. “Because somehow you _still_ manage to best me and best me in fucking everything! Your country modernized first! Yao never gets as angry at you as he does with me! You somehow worked out your stupid crush!”

America squirms. Japan stares at the ground. “There are other people besides Yao who like you and have for years, but you’ve had your head so far stuck up your ass you haven’t noticed.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Hey,” America finally interrupts.

“I said I was sorry,” Japan spits out. “I don’t know what more you want from me. I can’t control any of those things you’re angry about.”

South Korea realizes he’s shaking.

America walks over and clasps his shoulder, and he almost lets out an embarrassing sob.

They stand like that for a bit as he collects himself.

“I’m sorry too,” he eventually mutters. “This situation sucks so goddamn much that it isn’t helping.”

Japan chews his lip; then looks at America. “This situation does suck.”

He frowns. “Kiku.”

“And I really think that medication will help. Did—Did Arthur,” Japan nearly spits out his name, “convince—”

“No, because I don’t need to be drugged up again. I’m strong enough that—”

Suddenly all South Korea can see is America’s body hitting the stage like a sack of bricks.

“Take the meds,” he interrupts.

“But I—”

“If not for yourself, then for Kiku.” He rubs his eyes. “That’s why he tried to murder me with a cup, Alfred. He’s turning into a mess stressing about you.”

Japan looks embarrassed as America uncomfortably squirms.

“I shouldn’t have to take meds, though” he eventually chokes out. “I only had to—to take them during the years after the road trip. But—But that’s—it’s over now. I—I moved past it. So I sh—I—”

Seeing him start to cry is like a sucker punch in the gut.

Japan engulfs him in an embrace as South Korea places his hand on his shoulder.

“This wasn’t supposed to be about me,” America moans, burying his face into Japan’s hair. “I cause all of you so much trouble—”

Japan grips his back. “No.”

“Fuck, so _I’m_ the goddamn reason why you and Yong-Soo just had this fight?”

“No,” Japan repeats.

“Alfred, that’s not what I meant,” South Korea says at the same time, feeling useless.

He makes a muffled noise. South Korea drops his hand.

Eventually, they head back.

* * *

 

* * *

 

The house feels like it’s deserted.

Russia, China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong are in the living room when they enter.

China doesn’t even glance at them. “Did you sort everything out?”

South Korea and Japan make eye contact.

“Yeah,” South Korea mutters, looking away.

“Alfred,” Russia mumbles at the same time. “Prussia left some of his pain medication out that helps with sleeping.”

His face scrunches up.

“Thanks for telling us,” Japan says before he can open his mouth. South Korea, meanwhile, looks at Hong Kong.

_“Did I smile when Kha Loung screeched for Arthur!?”_

He hasn’t thought about that in decades, and suddenly his stomach starts to violently churn. He tries to suppress it. He’s been a master at doing that in the past. Why _can’t he—_

Hong Kong’s eyebrows pinch together. “What?”

South Korea quickly looks away. “I’m going to bed,” he blurts out, feeling jittery and weird.

_“There are other people besides Yao who like you and have for years, but you’ve had your head so far stuck up your ass you haven’t noticed.”_

No, it wouldn’t be him. What the fuck—why is he even thinking about this? Hong Kong hates him! He likes Mei! He definitely hates him, fuck, and South Korea _sneered at hi—_

“It’s 8 PM,” Russia mutters.

“I’m going to bed.”

Hong Kong seems confused. “Wait.”

South Korea nearly sprints out of the room and up the stairs, his mind spinning in circles.

Canada glances at him from his cocoon of blankets as soon as he opens the door. “Everything okay now?”

South Korea gathers his sheets together. “Yeah.”

They don’t say anything else.

* * *

 

 _1942_ _년_ _01_ _월_ _02_ _일_  

Korea was dressed up. It was freezing. His face was caked with makeup.

He looked like a Japanese doll.

He was kneeling on a mat. Surrounding him were other Nations, Vietnam on his one side, an empty mat on his other. The two of them made eye contact once, but they were afraid to do it again. In front of them were some Japanese government pigs. They were outside, in a courtyard. It snowed the day before, but Korea didn’t know the date. His perception of time was warped from rotting in this place for so long.

Abruptly, the door to the courtyard swung open. It was Japan, his face stone cold. He was dressed in military attire, and Korea felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the implications of it, and what was about to happen.

Following him was an old woman, Aida. She’s the one who did their makeup and dressed all of them.

And she was leading a kid.

She was leading a _kid_.

 _Hong Kong_. The thought clicked in Korea’s mind. _That’s Hong Kong._

He was crying. He was hysterical. Aida was shushing him as she led him to the empty mat, but it wasn’t working. Instead, more tears poured out of his eyes and snot dripped from his nose, making him look absolutely _pathetic._

Now next to him, Korea could make out what he was saying. It was English. Nonsense. Begging. He was crying for ‘Arthur.’

“Let’s begin,” some Japanese official announced.

Hong Kong shrieked, and Korea sneered at him. _The longer you prolong this by throwing a fit, the worse it will be_ , he thought.

_I should know._

But Hong Kong didn’t.

A Japanese official reached into a jar and pulled out a piece of paper. He was bundled up, wearing gloves. It left Korea feeling bitter and jealous.

“Hong Kong!” the man read in a booming voice.

“NO!” he shrieked in English. “No, no, no, no—”

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _04_ _월_ _26_ _일_

South Korea’s eyes fling open.

He groans when he realizes he’s covered in sweat, then groans again when he checks his phone and sees that it’s 6 AM.

Thankfully, Canada is still asleep, so he’s able to stumble to the bathroom in peace.

He stares at his shitty reflection in the mirror after he spits out his toothpaste.

_Get a fucking grip._

Taiwan is waiting for him when he opens the door.

He nearly has a heart attack. “ _Shit_.”

“Sorry.”

“What do you need?”

She rubs her face. “Just…come with me. Please.”

“Why?”

She walks away, and he grumbles and follows her until he sees Hong Kong just sitting in the hallway to the kitchen, motionless.

“He’s asleep,” Taiwan mumbles, sounding exhausted before South Korea can say anything. “Like, he sleepwalked here around ten minutes ago and woke me up in the process.”

Looking at him is reminding South Korea of his dream and his conversation with Japan. It’s not pleasant.

“Should we wake him up?” he gets out.

Taiwan dully stares at him. “I guess.”

They don’t move.

“Mei, you can go back to sleep if you want,” South Korea offers, not knowing what else to say.

She shakes her head. “It’s alright. But I do want to take a shower.”

“That’s fine.” It isn’t. “I’ll deal with him.” He doesn’t want to.

_“There are other people besides Yao who like you and have for years, but you’ve had your head so far stuck up your ass you haven’t noticed.”_

Why does that thought keep repeating in his head? What does that even have to do with Hong Kong!? Fuck, he should _hate him_ anyways—

“You know, last night he…” Taiwan trails off.

South Korea frowns. “What?”

She shakes her head. “…Never mind. Thanks for doing this.”

South Korea lets out a breath after she walks back upstairs, staring at Hong Kong. He’s clearly asleep, but his eyes are open, and it’s creepy as hell.

It’s the same blank look he used to have when being dissected at the end.

South Korea walks over and nudges him, trying to control his own urgency. “Kha Loung.”

No response.

South Korea grits his teeth and nudges him harder. “Kha Loung.”

Nothing.

South Korea grabs both of his shoulders. “KHA LOUNG!”

Hong Kong’s eyes spring to life, and he recoils. “What the fuck?”

“You sleepwalked again.”

He looks around. “Oh.”

“Mei’s going to take a shower, so the upstairs bathroom’s occupied,” South Korea mutters, backing away.

Hong Kong nods, seeming dazed. He stands up.

They both end up in the kitchen, and the silence as South Korea prepares breakfast with what little Shitty Western Food they have is suffocating.

“I want a rice cooker,” he mutters after he can’t stand it any longer.

All Hong Kong gives him is a grunt. He lays his head on the table.

“Did you work everything out with Kiku?” he mutters a few minutes later, his voice muffled when South Korea forces himself to take a seat across from him.

He swallows, feeling his stomach clench. “I guess.”

Hong Kong sits up. “Do you ever talk about the war?”

“No.”

“…”

“…Alfred made Kiku and I try, though,” South Korea then mumbles. “Last night.”

“I tried once too,” Hong Kong chokes out, scooting his chair forward so that their legs almost touch. South Korea feels weird. “With Chiu. But we didn’t really get anywhere.”

_“NO!” he shrieked in English. “No, no, no, no—”_

Hong Kong clenches his jaw, not noticing South Korea’s discomfort. “But it was different for him. The Portuguese remained _neutral_ , so he was able to stay there and remain with his fucking guardian who actually gives a shit—”

Prussia walks into the room.

South Korea nearly cries in relief when Hong Kong’s mouth slams shut.

He freezes when he sees them. “…I can leave.”

“No,” Hong Kong spits, clearly annoyed. “Stay.”

“O…kay.” He walks to where his pills are and dumps them out.

South Korea has no idea what to say to Hong Kong, especially with how anxious he feels right now, so he ends up with a pathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he grumbles, gripping the table. “It doesn’t matter.”

“…”

“Last night, why did you run away from me?”

South Korea pretends he didn’t just hear him. “What?”

“Hey, sorry,” Prussia says before Hong Kong can respond. South Korea nearly hugs him. “I…need an opinion on some weird texts I got last night.”

He frowns. “From a wrong number?”

“No…they knew who they were texting.”

He places his phone on the table, and South Korea and Hong Kong lean over to read the string of texts.

“Um,” South Korea eloquently says once he’s done.

“His niece turned into a Nation?” Hong Kong asks, his voice weirdly hushed.

Prussia bites his lip. “I don’t know. I also don’t know why he’s asking me how well I know Kazimir.” He pockets his phone. For a second, it looks like Hong Kong wants to snatch it back. “Should I respond?”

South Korea frowns. “So wait, _he’s_ the director?”

“I mean, he claims he is.”

“I honestly think he’s crazy. I’d ask your Nation Advisor about it first before you do anything.”

_We don’t have families. We never have._

Prussia looks away. “Yeah. I guess I’ll do that.”

South Korea feels uncomfortable for no solid reason now. Maybe it’s because Hong Kong and Prussia seem like they want to say something else about this.

They drop the conversation, though.

* * *

 

It’s 7:45 AM, and everyone’s awake, milling around the kitchen before they have to go.

South Korea is taking the opportunity to lean moodily against the wall.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asks America, trying not to look in Hong Kong’s direction, or think about the texts, or the Second World War.

America lowers his coffee mug, swallowing. “Yeah. …It felt good.”

Japan also seems well rested and definitely not as cranky.

“So, are you going to take the meds suit man offered?” South Korea mumbles, forcing himself to make eye contact.

America fidgets. “I guess.”

“Kiku will be happy.”

“I know…”

“Suit man too,” South Korea mutters.

“His name’s Robert.”

He doesn’t want to be _obsessive_ , _fuck Kiku_ , but he absolutely doesn’t trust him. Not after how he whipped out a gun with poison bullets and shot America with no hesitation. “You’re _sure_ he’s on our side?”

America looks uncomfortable. “Robert’s done a lot for me. He helped with the plan, too.”

_So did this Kazimir person, and now he’s an international terrorist._

“What do you think’s going to happen with this dude who texted Gilbert?” America mumbles after a bit. Prussia vaguely told everyone about him.

He never showed anyone else his phone, though.

South Korea shrugs.

“Why would he claim to be the director?”

“I have no clue…”

_Why didn’t Prussia tell anyone else about this person’s so-called niece-Nation-thing. Why were he and Kha Loung acting so weird about the topic of families?_

_Now next to him, Korea could make out what Hong Kong was saying. It was English. It was nonsense, begging. He was begging for—_

“…binder.”

South Korea jerks, feeling anxiety climbing his throat. “Sorry, what?”

“Mei’s being really obsessive with that binder,” America repeats. South Korea looks at her and sees that she’s holding it now, pacing back and forth.

The doorbell rings before he can respond.

* * *

 

The car ride is quick.

They’re at the building now, sitting in some meeting room, waiting.

“I thought Ilse and Robert were supposed to take us here,” Prussia grumbles to Spain after a few minutes of just standing around.

He frowns. “Something must’ve come up.”

South Korea, meanwhile, fidgets, feeling the urge to whistle, feeling like he needs a distraction. For whatever reason, Hong Kong tried standing near him when they first got to the room, and like an asshole, he moved away. He has no idea why he’s following him or wants to be around him. Doesn’t he hate him? Shouldn’t he hate him?

South Korea realizes Taiwan is glaring at him just as the door opens.

“Uh, hi?” Prussia says in English after a good awkward pause.

A man nearly jogs inside, seeming to gain confidence. “Hello!” he responds eagerly in the same language. He appears to be in his late forties, with tan skin, short, dark brown hair, and light brown eyes, plus a trimmed beard.

“Halim,” Ilse’s voice calls from the hallway. “We’re not supposed to go in yet.”

 _Is_ this _that fucking dude who texted Prussia?_

“I’m the program director; it’s no biggie.”

“…Alright.”

Without thinking, South Korea makes eye contact with Hong Kong, and Hong Kong shoots him a worried glance just as Ilse and suit— _Robert_ follow Halim into the room.

“So you heard—my name is Halim!” the man in question exclaims once they’re all gathered. He sounds like he’s straight out of a pep rally. “My English isn’t great, but I will try!”

“You can speak Arabic,” Prussia says, picking up his accent. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah, but your guard dogs can’t understand it,” Halim mutters in that language. He then smiles, switching back. “So I will speak English!”

South Korea doesn’t like him.

“So you already got the groups you’re in, which is fabulous! You’ve been sorted by your ‘power levels.’ It offended some countries. That’s why I’m the head of the program—I’m a neutral body.” He laughs like he’s thinking of a hilarious inside joke.

South Korea _really_ doesn’t trust this guy at all.

“Each program differs, obviously. And there will be an emphasis on building up your physical strength, but also testing out some new things too.”

“New things?” Prussia questions, the only one with the courage to ask anything.

“Yes. You see, we have the Russians and Americans. We have access to all of their previous work. They’re sharing it with us; what they’ve been doing.”

Silence.

“There will be no experiments!” Halim rushes out, realizing what he just implied. “But they have strength enhancer things they want to test. Harmless, I think. And their militaries are lending weapons. Those are the sorts of things they’re sharing with us, new things to the UN! But now I’m boring you. Either way, cooperation is good and will make this faster to do the new things.”

“What about me?” Prussia dully asks. “With my,” he gestures to himself, “issues.”

“Yes! You! You’ll be a floater, hanging out with me, or just being in the lowest group. I don’t quite know yet. We’re still deciding. I have questions for you, anyway.”

Prussia frowns. South Korea narrows his eyes.

“Okay, listen, you have to be in this program because you’re acting as Germany’s reparations for basically starting this shit fest,” Halim says in Arabic. “I know it makes no sense for you to be here, but the Russians and Americans were insistent. So you’ll hang out with me, or just observe the different groups. Again, I don’t know yet.”

Halim switches back to English just as Robert angrily opens his mouth, probably to demand what he said. “That’s all I wanted to talk about!”

Robert glares at him. “That’s it? This meeting was allotted to last for two hours.”

“Yes, I know. But it was not my idea.”

“Why don’t you go ask the coordinator what we should do,” Ilse murmurs. “I’ll stay here.”

Robert warily glances at her. “Alright. Sure.”

“You know,” Ilse says in Arabic once he’s gone. “You have two very different tones depending on what language you’re speaking.”

Halim looks sheepish. “Wow, you speak it well. Even my dialect.”

“Your accent doesn’t quite sound Jordanian, either.”

He forces out a laugh. “Really? I think it is.”

Ilse ignores him. “So, I’m a guard dog now?”

“You and that old man _do_ come across as such. None of the other Nation Advisors give a shit. That, or they resent being here so much they complain non-stop.”

“Believe me, I know.”

South Korea still does not trust this man at all.

“Listen,” Halim starts, turning to all of them. He’s still speaking Arabic. “No one wants to be here.” He rubs his face. “No one really cares what I’m telling you right now as long as we start ‘training’ on Monday, and no one here knows Arabic.”

Russia clearly doesn’t trust this man either. “Why does that matter?”

“Prussia, did you get my texts?”

“You texted him?” Ilse asks before he can respond.

“I asked you if I could.”

“That was not the question you asked me.”

“Maybe my English came off weird. Anyway, it was secure. Don’t worry.”

“What the hell did you send him?”

“He asked how well I knew Kazimir,” Prussia mutters.

Halim frowns. “That’s not all.”

“And he said he has a niece. That Kazimir has.”

Ilse looks affronted. “He captured your niece?”

“Who’s a Nation,” Prussia adds on.

A weird silence falls over the room.

“What?” Taiwan explodes first.

Halim suddenly looks very nervous. “I don’t understand it either. But my niece is Palestine. I know that’s her.”

“How?” Russia asks, his voice low. “How does he have her?”

Halim looks away. “He stole her from the Americans.”

Now America seems like he’s about to be sick.

“How do we know you aren’t fucking with us?” Russia asks again.

Halim sweats. “You have to believe me.”

China’s expression is guarded. “Why do you want to know about Kazimir?”

“Because I want to know what he’d do with her.” He takes a deep breath. “Listen, the plan is this. They want to train you guys and turn you into some sort of super soldier. As we speak, they’re trying to track down Kazimir’s whereabouts. And once they find him, the idea’s to send you guys in to eliminate him and any of his followers, then extract the Nations and return them to their rightful ‘owners.’”

Everyone’s expression morphs into disgust.

“We’re supposed to return them?” France asks in disbelief.

“Yes,” Halim mumbles. “But you see, I don’t want to give back my niece to the American government. I also don’t want Kazimir to keep her since from my knowledge of him right now, he seems insane.”

“Then what do you want from us?” Canada asks, scrutinizing him.

It’s clear no one besides Taiwan thinks he’s telling the truth about his niece.

He flinches. “I—I don’t know, entirely. You don’t have to believe me that she’s my sister’s daughter, but.” He closes his eyes. “Please, just, when you see my niece, if you fight her, if you get the opportunity, please put her out of her misery. Put them all out of their misery. Don’t let them be taken again. I guess that’s all I want.”

Absolutely no one knows how to respond.

Thankfully, Robert comes back.

“So, we can just…leave,” he says, somewhat in disbelief, completely unaware of the mood. “There’s nothing else planned, and I got the schedules for Monday, so we’re good.”

“Wonderful!” Halim exclaims in English, forcing out a smile. “I will then see you all later!”

* * *

 

No one dares to mention what Halim says after they leave. The only conversation they have on the way back is Robert giving America his new medication. 

* * *

 

The rest of the day is a goddamn blur.

America takes some of his sleeping medication and is out cold for six hours, which freaks everyone out at first. South Korea can barely stomach being in the same room as Hong Kong, even after Taiwan tries to force them to talk. Prussia, Spain, France, and England get into a mini-argument…

It’s nighttime, now.

“Are you okay?” Canada asks.

South Korea is staring at his ceiling, absolutely dreading tomorrow’s training. “Yeah.”

Canada sees through his bullshit. “We could watch a movie. “That’ll distract you.”

He frowns. “What movie?”

* * *

 

Canada is way too into this polar bear documentary.

South Korea can’t concentrate, realizing how little he actually knows about him as the entire thing plays.

It finishes around 1 AM.

“Thank you,” he mumbles when Canada stands up.

“You feeling tired enough now that you won’t have a nightmare?”

South Korea feels his face heat up out of shame. “Sorry.”

Canada turns off the light. “It’s fine.”

“No—”

“I have them too.”

He mulls that sentence over for the next hour, his 6 AM alarm looming in the back of his mind.

_Hong Kong shrieked. Korea glanced at him, sneered at him._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (image commissioned from kellykirsch.tumblr.com)


	15. Training

_27\. April 2015_

Prussia has no idea where they’re going.

He’s with Hong Kong and Taiwan, and the three of them are squished in the backseat of a small sedan; Taiwan in the middle, Prussia on the left, and Hong Kong on the right. Driving them is some non-descript UN worker.

After thirty minutes, they finally pull up to what looks like a shooting range. At least Prussia hopes that’s what it is. The dodgy metal building out front is questionable.

The UN driver leads them through that dodgy building after they park, then out a back entrance to the fields. They walk in silence, passing by random angry-looking people with different flag-pins brandished on their jackets.

It causes Prussia to sigh in relief when he sees Ilse.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after he gets close, ignoring Robert and Halim hovering near her.

She shrugs. “I had nothing better to do. Plus, Halim invited Robert and me.”

“Doesn’t Robert have anything better to do?”

“If he weren’t here, he’d be sulking in his room.”

“Man, I wish I could speak German!” Halim says in his fake happy English voice.

Prussia switches to Arabic. “We can—”

“Nope! We must all speak English here. That’s what your trainers will do!”

“What’s planned for today, then?” Prussia dully asks in English as Hong Kong and Taiwan nervously walk over.

“Shooting practice and a little bit of aerobic training! Hong Kong and Taiwan, have either of you shot a gun before?”

Both don’t make eye contact and mumble “no’s” in English.

Halim doesn’t miss a beat. “What about you, Prussia?”

He laughs. “I’ve shot a gun before.”

“Show me!”

“…What?”

Halim gestures. “Yeah, come on. Over here!”

“My right hand is bandaged.”

He practically shoves him in front of a target around 1,000 meters away. “Work around it!”

Prussia turns to argue, but some random Swiss man steps in front of him before he can. “Here,” he grunts in English, handing him a pair of earmuffs and eyeglasses.

“I don’t think I—”

“Just take one shot,” Halim calls.

Prussia sighs, fumbling to get the gear on. As soon as he’s done, the Swiss man from before pushes him into a kneeling position.

“You know, you could be a little _gentler._ ”

He shoves a full-bore rifle into Prussia’s hands as a response.

Prussia sighs, making eye contact with Ilse, who gives him a tight smile, clearly telling him just to go along with it.

“Do you need any help setting up?” Mr. Swiss Man asks.

“No,” Prussia mutters.

“The gun’s already loaded.”

He lies down on his stomach and points it at the target. His right, bandaged hand is holding the barrel, and his left is on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, he closes his left eye to peer through the viewfinder with his right. There’s no breeze, the wind flags aren’t blowing, and he can see the target clearly.

He stares at it until it blurs away.

_When’s the last time I even shot a gun?_

A bead of sweat rolls down his neck.

_Probably back at the Soviet training camp in Korea._

He clenches his jaw and shoots, trying to block out his own thoughts, trying to ignore the bile building up in his throat.

The recoil isn’t tremendous, but now his arms are aching. His thumb is too. Without looking at the target, he drops the gun and hastily stands up.

“That was perfect,” Mr. Swiss Man says in awe. He’s looking through a riflescope.

Other people clamor around to get a closer look, Halim being one of them. “It’s a bull’s-eye!” he says excitedly.

Prussia slinks back next to Ilse, Robert, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, removing his earmuffs and glasses.

“Wow,” Ilse says.

“I used to do target practice a lot…”

Halim is now talking to some people, most of them Swiss. A few Chinese officials are hovering, but none look particularly interested. There are also some American and Russian officials off in the distance, but they don’t seem to give a shit either.

Halim waves his arm. “Hong Kong! Taiwan! These people are going to teach you some gun basics! You’ll work on this for an hour, and then you’ll be doing some aerobic training; a couple of American and Russians will facilitate this! Your Chinese officials will also be around, so if you have any concerns, address it to them!”

Both of them are frozen.

“It’s 7:00 now; you’ll stop around 13:00 for lunch!” Halim continues. “Here, come over here.”

“So now what?” Prussia asks Ilse and Robert after they’re gone.

“We can watch?” Ilse responds.

“For six hours?”

Robert moves away from them and sits on a nearby bench.

“The fuck is his deal today?” Prussia asks in German, side-eyeing him. “He hasn’t grumbled anything all morning.”

Ilse seems pensive. “I don’t know. You can try talking to him.”

Prussia snorts. “What will that do?”

“I don’t know. But you’re good at getting info out of people.”

Before Prussia can ask what the hell that means, she walks over to Halim.

He stands there, looks at Hong Kong awkwardly listening to what he guesses is the ‘gun instructor;’ then takes a seat next to Robert.

He glances at him. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” Prussia replies in English, watching Ilse and Halim walk away.

He still feels weird about the whole ‘Halim claiming his niece is a Nation’ thing.

He wants to believe him. Shit, he wants to believe the memories that Bavaria told him were bullshit are true. And the fact that Hong Kong seemed fixated on Halim’s claim also makes him feel less crazy, but…

Halim’s still a really shady guy, and the fact he has no proof Palestine is his niece makes Prussia doubt him.

Robert’s pocket vibrates.

“Well, I see you’re popular,” Prussia says in a monotone voice.

His back is hunched. “Just with one person.”

Prussia fidgets, not knowing how to respond. He waits for Robert to take out what he assumes is a phone and text whoever messaged him back, but it never happens.

“I really can’t see either her or Hong Kong charging into the heat of battle,” Prussia mutters after a bit, watching Taiwan. She seems completely overwhelmed.

Robert rubs his face. “No one can, but the Chinese wanted them to have basic training.”

“Wait, then if they aren’t intended to be soldiers, who are?”

“Russia, China, and America, mainly. They’ll be going through the most intensive program.”

Hong Kong shoots a gun and misses the target by a long shot.

“Do we really need an army to capture child Nations?” Prussia mutters.

“You need an army to break into the compound they’re at.”

“I can’t believe you expect us to do this after everything we’ve been fighting for.”

Robert gives a miserable laugh. “Oh, what? You guys are going to disobey orders now? After the deep shit you’re already in?”

“…”

“Alfred has mental issues, Russia is terrified of his government, and China is practically being blackmailed. They’ll listen to orders. They have to. And everyone will make sure, especially after what happened to Kazimir.”

“You’re afraid of them.”

They make eye contact.

“You’re afraid of Russia and China,” Prussia repeats.

Robert looks away. “They murdered everyone at that Siberian compound in cold blood. All of those officials forced to work with Nations—they just fucking murdered them. Of course I am.”

They sit there for a while, watching Taiwan and Hong Kong fumble around.

“You saw Frank before he died, right?” Robert whispers out of the blue.

Prussia looks at him. He’s staring at the ground.

“Yeah?”

“What happened? Please, what happened?” he almost begs.

Prussia frowns. “We were at Valley Forge when Frank found us, somehow. And America…snapped when he saw him.

“He put Frank into a chokehold. Russia threw America off of him a few seconds later, but the damage was already done.”

Robert swallows.

“We took him back to the house and waited for America to wake up before doing anything—since he blacked out. And then he and Frank talked. But once their conversation was finished, Frank committed suicide. He fished out a cyanide tablet from the corner of his mouth and bit into it. Canada took care of his body afterward.”

Robert abruptly stands up.

“You okay?” Prussia slowly asks.

He’s digging his nails into his palm. “I—”

His pocket vibrates.

Prussia watches him hastily hobble towards the metal building.

* * *

 

He sits there for a while, bored out of his mind.

It’s why he’s startled when he suddenly hears Ilse and Halim arguing.

“There’s some sort of mutiny going on!” Ilse barks. “And you’re going to do nothing!?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Halim yells back.

“You’re the training program director or whatever the hell—you have some authority to stop this!”

“No one gives a shit about my job title! I don’t give a shit! My word isn’t going to stop anyone.”

“So what, you support that they may be willing to leak information!?”

Halim looks annoyed. “ _No?_ But I only pushed for this job to find my niece. I couldn’t care less whether or not Nations are exposed to the world!”

They pause when they see Prussia alone on the bench.

“W-Where’s Robert?” Ilse asks.

He shrugs, feeling wary. “I haven’t seen him in an hour.”

Silence.

“Um, what’s this mutiny?”

Ilse grits her teeth. “Nothing.”

“Nation Advisors and other officials are planning to leak information,” Halim says at the same time. “We just got approached about it.”

“It’s ludicrous,” Ilse sneers. “I’ve been hearing some people—they’re so bitter that they want to expose all of the Nation programs as a way to fight against the shitty system, but what good would that do!?

“Not only would we be purged, criticized, and publicly humiliated, all of you could never go out in public again, would be subjected to constant supervision, and would have to deal with the media digging into your pasts. Both of our lives would be miserable! I don’t care if it would expose the elaborate lies our countries have been telling. I don’t care. ”

“It’s just talk,” Halim rushes out. “No one’s actually going to do anything.”

Ilse takes a deep breath. “I feel like Robert would know more about this, but he’s gotten really distant these past couple of days and has generally been unhelpful.”

“You have only known him for little over a week,” Halim says. “This could be what he’s normally like.”

“Why _aren’t_ you against this Nation program, Halim?” Prussia interrupts. “Like, your niece is a target because of it.”

Halim frowns. “Because I told you. This Nation program is awful, but Kazimir is also insane.”

Prussia bores his eyes into him. “And you’re sure she’s your niece?”

Halim practically deflates. “I’m sure.”

He still doesn’t trust him.

* * *

 

It’s lunchtime.

Prussia is inside with Hong Kong and Taiwan, sitting in a break room. It’s tiny; there’s a microwave, a fridge, counters lining the walls, and a white table in the center with four chairs. The table is stained with what looks like coffee. Prussia hopes it is.

They were provided lunch, but it’s nothing but salad. All three of them are picking at it.

There’s only the sound of clinking silverware, courtesy of Taiwan. She keeps trying to jab her fork into a tomato, but each time it rolls away, so she’s getting more and more aggressive.

Prussia is staring at the cabinets, trying to ignore her.

It’s been days since Italy texted him, and he still hasn’t sent anything to Germany. He knows he should. He also knows Italy is probably pissed at him. But shit, how would he even start a conversation?

Taiwan finally stabs the tomato.

“S-Sorry!” she blurts out immediately.

Hong Kong, who’s sitting to her left, now has tomato bits all over his white shirt. “It’s…fine.”

Prussia thankfully avoided most of the carnage. As he grabs a wad of napkins to clean up the table, Taiwan attempts to fix Hong Kong’s shirt.

She’s spewing nonsense.

“I’m sorry—shit. It’s all stained.”

“Mei, it’s okay,” Hong Kong attempts to soothe. “It’s just a stupid shirt.”

“IT’S NOT JUST A SHIRT,” she screams. “It’s not—God, I’m such a fuck-up.”

Hong Kong frowns. “You’re not a fuck-up.”

“I can’t even shoot a gun!”

“I can’t shoot one either!”

They stare at each other as Prussia awkwardly drops the napkins in the trashcan.

“I don’t want to do this,” Taiwan chokes out, suddenly sounding on the verge of tears.

Hong Kong’s expression shatters. “Mei.”

“I don’t want to hurt those other female Nations, especially if one is someone’s niece. I can’t. I—”

Hong Kong is frozen, and Prussia attempts to make eye contact with him so he can convey the message: _hug her, dipshit_. But he still doesn’t move, so it’s Prussia who puts his arm on Taiwan’s shoulder. “Everything will pass,” he murmurs. “It may be tough now, but eventually, everything will get better.”

She shrugs off his arm. “How can you even say that!? We’re being trained to attack these Nations—these _little_ girls. We’re being trained to capture and return them so they can be tortured again! Don’t you understand the morality of this situation!?”

Prussia stares at the floor. “Of course I do.”

Hong Kong finally pulls her into an embrace, and she lets out a sob.

He watches them, feeling empty.

* * *

 

“He’s avoiding me,” Hong Kong mumbles to Taiwan on the car ride back.

“When I mentioned dinner, I didn’t think you’d segue into stressing about him.”

“But he’s been looking at me weird!”

Taiwan sighs. “Yong-Soo just gets in these moods sometimes.”

Prussia stares out the window, wondering if he should say anything.

He hears Hong Kong fidget. “It’s…bothering me.”

“I know, but it’ll pass, Kha Loung. Don’t worry.”

* * *

 

They get back to the villa around 7 PM.

Everyone else arrives at the same time. And while it’s clear they’re all worn-out, it’s really noticeable that America, Russia, and China look like utter shit.

Those three don’t mention anything about it, though.

Prussia watches Hong Kong’s attempts to approach South Korea, but each time ends in failure.

Dinner is unmemorable, and throughout it, Prussia is caught up in his own thoughts of Halim’s niece, the so-called mutiny, his cancer…

Why didn’t he just dissolve when he should have?

* * *

 

_30\. April 2015_

“Lovi’s clearly read them,” Spain grumbles. “It says so.”

“Are you sure you should even be texting him?” Prussia replies, staring at the ceiling. “You’ve been messaging him non-stop.”

Spain mutters something unintelligible.

It’s 9 PM, and they’re in their room. Prussia, as usual, is dreading going to sleep.

“You should try texting Germany,” Spain says, still staring at his phone.

“No.”

“Or Hungary and Austria.”

“No.”

They make eye contact. Spain’s eyes flick to Prussia’s bandaged hand; then back to his face. “Fine. But you should still…”

Prussia looks away.

They don’t say anything else to each other and keep themselves occupied until 10 PM when Spain turns off the lights. He falls asleep almost immediately afterward.

Prussia, meanwhile, is wide-awake.

He stares at his sheets until his phone vibrates. 

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : I am so sorry for the package you’re about to receive
> 
> > **Gilbert** : ???
> 
> > **Feliciano** : Lovi sent one of his...concoctions that he spent a few hours on. Have fun.
> 
> > **Feliciano** : Oh wait--let me get into character
> 
> > **Feliciano** : ~vee! Have fun with Lovi’s funnn drink! Also it’s ~super~ cool you still haven’t talked to Ludwig at all ;^D

_Fine, fuck you._  

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Hey

That’s it. Just—‘hey.’ He can’t muster anything else.

He waits five minutes, rapidly scrolling through his Twitter feed until his phone vibrates again. 

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Ludwig** : I have no recollection of the previous conversation on here.
> 
> > **Ludwig** : When did Feliciano even take my phone?

Oh, right. That conversation.     

> > **Gilbert** : when u were drunk I guess haha

No response.     

> > **Gilbert** : Listen, I’m really sorry I kept everything a secret from you, but I kept it a secret from everyone, so I wasn’t just singling you out.

He reads that text multiple times before sending it.    

> > **Ludwig** : It was just hard to hear it second-handedly from your Nation Advisor of all people
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I know Im sorry
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m really sorry
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Just take care of yourself. I’ll be waiting
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Like I usually do for you
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Don’t get all deep on me.
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Like, don’t worry; this will be over soon, and then I’ll be back in Germany to annoy your ass. This is nothing

He stares at his phone, his heart pounding in anticipation.   

> > **Ludwig** : this isn’t nothing don’t downplay the situation like you always do
> 
> > **Gilbert** : But it /is/ nothing. I’ve been doing nothing. Trust me
> 
> > **Gilbert** : everything will work out
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Okay
> 
> > **Ludwig** : But you still have cancer

Prussia sighs, dropping his phone next to his head.

_I know, Ludwig. I’m sorry._

He’s startled when his phone vibrates again. 

> > **Ludwig** : When you come back, we can get pigeons.
> 
> > **Gilbert** : fFUKC REALLY??/
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Don’t make me regret this.
> 
> > **Gilbert** : TEH PIGEONS ARE GONG TO BE SO FUCKING COOL JUS TYOU WAIT WE CAN TRAIN THEM HOLY SHIT
> 
> > **Ludwig** : (^~^)
> 
> > **Gilbert** : did you just send a Japanese emoticon. what the fuck
> 
> > **Ludwig** : leave me alone
> 
> > **Gilbert** : (^~^)
> 
> > **Ludwig** : (^~^)

Prussia actually sleeps soundly that night.

* * *

        

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [0:13]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : Thank you for texting Ludwig

     

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [0:22]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : But now im going to pester you about Liz and Roderich

* * *

 

_1\. Mai 2015_

“Who is that Swiss guy and why does he keep staring at me?” Prussia asks from his usual spot on the bench. Today, he has a book that Japan recommended. It was very thoughtful of him. Prussia hasn’t opened it yet.

Robert gives him a dull look. “What Swiss guy?”

He points. Mr. Swiss Man is currently saying something to Taiwan, who looks frazzled. It’s noon, so it’s almost their lunch break, at least.

“He’s the owner of this facility,” Robert mutters. “And he only recently found out about Nations, which is probably why he’s staring. That, and you hit a perfect bull’s-eye.”

“Oh.”

Ilse and Halim were around, but they left together a while ago, going God knows where.

“Why are you even here?” Prussia asks.“There’s absolutely no point.”

Robert doesn’t look at him. “Ilse always eagerly drags me along.”

“She’s only eager because she gets to see Halim.” He pauses. “ _Why_ is _he_ always here? What about the other training groups?”

“Halim doesn’t give a shit about this program now that it’s running smoothly.”

Prussia’s phone vibrates. 

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst!

He pockets it and glances at Robert, only to see that his expression is utterly blank.

“You look like you want to curl up and die,” Prussia finds himself saying.

He doesn’t deny anything.

* * *

 

Taiwan hurls her fork at the wall.

“I’m sick of salad!”

Hong Kong’s head is on the table; his food pushed off to the side. “Me too.”

Through these conversations that Prussia never feels there’s an appropriate time for him to chime into, he’s learned a couple of things.

The obvious one is Hong Kong’s glaring crush on Taiwan.

And even if she acts oblivious, Prussia is almost certain she knows about it. But then that confuses him because he can never pinpoint her feelings in return. Though she’ll act annoyed when Hong Kong won’t shut up about South Korea, Prussia doesn’t think it’s out of jealousy.

And that leads to the other thing.

Hong Kong’s other crush on South Korea.

* * *

 

Somehow, China, Russia, and America manage to look worse every day.

Tonight is no exception. Everyone’s been going to bed early lately, and as predicted, those three head up at 9 PM on the dot. Prussia is left downstairs with everyone else, all looking worn down and exhausted, but not…sickly. America, China, and Russia seem sickly.

They’re in the living room, occupying themselves as usual. Japan seems restless now that America’s gone, though, and Prussia knows he’ll be heading up soon.

South Korea is on the floor near him. “God, just go up already,” he says after Japan won’t stop fidgeting.

“Don’t start a fight,” Taiwan mutters while Hong Kong squirms.

South Korea gets defensive. “I’m not trying to!”

“It’s fine,” Japan says before Taiwan can respond. His shoulders slouch. “He’s right.”

Everyone else follows him after he leaves except for England and Prussia.

England is knitting. He seems absorbed in his work, and Prussia watches him in a daze until his phone vibrates.

He’s surprised when he sees Ilse’s name. 

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Ilse** : I’m out front-- I have a package 

Prussia walks to the front door and opens it. “What is it?” he asks as a greeting.

Ilse shrugs. “It went through several layers of security, though, so it’s all yours.”

He takes it from her, and in the process, she glances at his bad hand.

“How’s your thumb doing?”

“Fine.”

“You’ve been putting a bag on it when you shower, right?”

“Yes, mom.”

Ilse rolls her eyes. “I’m just making sure.” She pauses. “Do you still have enough medication?”

“Yeah.”

“And everything’s keeping your pain in check?”

He nods.

“What about bruises; how bad have they been?”

Prussia frowns. “I don’t have any new ones at the moment. But I mean, I also haven’t been doing much.”

She sighs. “Okay. Just making sure.”

“When are we going to the hospital again?”

“I was going to wait until this ordeal died down if that’s okay.” She pauses. “Unless you feel like you need to go sooner.”

“No, I’m good.”

She relaxes and yawns. “Okay.”

They both hover.

“Well, I’m going to leave then,” she says, turning to go. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ilse, wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you know Arabic?”

She scrunches up her eyebrows. “What?”

Prussia smirks. “Item one on my bucket list: get to know more about Ilse.”

She almost rolls her eyes. “I took it in my university, then just continued studying it because it’s a useful language. No deep backstory there, unfortunately.”

“Ah.”

Ilse waves her hand. “Alright, good night.”

“Night.”

She pauses. “You know, I should be allowed to ask my own questions in return.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever had any other human friends?”

Prussia feels caught off-guard. “I guess, but…”

“Were they all political leaders?”

He thinks back to the resistance group in France. It always feels like just a figment of his imagination. “No.”

“Who?”

“Don’t you need to go to bed?”

Ilse smiles. “But now I’m curious.”

Prussia sighs. “Well, there was the people apart of the resistance group that I joined in Paris to break out Francis. I got close to them. They’re all dead now, though.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Have you ever looked into it?”

“…No.”

Ilse smiles. “Now, wouldn’t that be a fun bucket list thing?”

Prussia feels dazed. “I wouldn’t even know how to track them down.”

“I can do that for you.” Ilse grins. “Now good night for real.”

“Good night…”

England looks up when he walks back to the living room. “What’s that?”

“A package.”

“Well, that’s obvious.”

“I don’t know what’s inside.” Prussia checks the sender and sees Romano’s name.

He then remembers Italy’s message.

England stands up, putting his knitting to the side. “Who’s it from?”

“Lovino.”

Prussia grabs a pen and uses it to tear apart the packaging tape. Once open, he digs through the styrofoam peanuts and pulls out a tupperware filled with some sort of green liquid.

England’s eyebrows pinch together. “What the bloody hell is that?”

“It’s one of Lovino’s…smoothies,” Prussia manages to get out. “He swears by this shit.”

“Ah…”

Prussia puts the mystery liquid aside and grabs the note Romano left him.

…

_Hi,_

__

_Drink this. It will help you fight your cancer._

_XOXO_

…

Prussia clenches his jaw, knowing that nothing can prevent him from dying.

England pops open the tupperware lid.

“Don’t—” he starts to rush out, but it’s too late. The smell instantly fills the living room.

“Fuck!” England yells, trying to close it. He grabs the container too forcefully, though, and it splatters all over the carpet.

Prussia’s eyes are tearing up. England looks like he’s choking.

They run out to the backyard.

“I don’t want to clean that up,” Prussia gets out as he gasps for breath.

“Sorry,” England chokes. “I didn’t think it would smell that awful.”

“I should have warned you.”

They stand there for a bit.

“I can’t cook,” England eventually mumbles, “but I don’t think I’ve ever made anything as offensive as that.”

“According to him, whatever the hell’s in it is really healthy.”

“I overheard your conversation; that thing had to go through security. That means government officials took it out and smelled it.”

Prussia chuckles.

“How’s training going?” he asks after another pause. No one ever really discusses it.

England’s face scrunches up. “It’s okay.”

“At Hong Kong and Taiwan’s, they’re just doing aerobic work and shooting practice. What about yours?”

“We’re doing the same, really. Though we’re also going over military hand signals.”

“Ah.”

“What about you? Are you doing any training?” England asks.

“I sit on a bench and watch. It’s thrilling.”

“Why can’t you stay at the house, then?”

Prussia shrugs.

“How’s Francis?” he then awkwardly asks, unable to stand the silence.

England frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know; being trained. How’s he handling that?”

“Fine, actually. The gunshots bothered him at first, but he’s…powering through it.” He pauses. “How’s your…illness?”

Prussia can’t make eye contact. “Fine.”

“You have leukemia.”

“But it really _is_ fine right now—with the pain meds, at least.”

A light turns on behind them.

“Not to be overly pushy,” Prussia mumbles. “But since we’re kind of trapped out here, what’s the deal with you and Hong Kong?”

England collapses to the ground and sighs. “We…don’t get along.”

Prussia takes a seat next to him. “I’ve seen that.”

“I was distant in the past, and he hasn’t forgiven me for it.” He plays with his shirtsleeve. “And I’m awful at apologizing, so my futile attempts at making amends have not been working.”

Prussia begins pulling fistfuls of grass out of the ground.

“I feel like a cunt,” England mutters, “and I have no idea what to do, but whatever. If he hates me, fine. I guess I deserve it.”

A window opens.

Prussia has no idea what to say. “Well, you’re trying? So I guess that’s something? I mean, I think your little comments here and there have been good.”

“I still feel like a cunt.”

“THE ONLY REASON YOU’RE A CUNT IS BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING SMELL THAT’S NOW PERMEATING THE HOUSE!” Hong Kong screams out the window.

Prussia and England jump.

“HOLY SHIT; I CAN’T BREATHE!”

They rush inside, and shit, the smell really has gotten worse.

Russia and China are in the living room, and the two do not look happy. They have shirts tied around their faces and are dumping cleaning product onto the spill area.

“Fuck you,” Russia sneers, looking up.

Prussia’s eyes are watering. He finger guns.

* * *

 

 _2\. Mai 2015_      

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst!

  

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m at training right now leave me alone
> 
> > **Feliciano** : You’re clearly not doing anything if you’re texting me, though

  

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> **> Lovino**: Did you get my package?

     

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : ~vee~ You should text Austria and Hungary, Mr. Prussia uwu

    

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> **> Lovino**: I’m pretty sure Roderich and Elizabeta would have wanted you to drink that super delicious smoothie
> 
> **> Lovino**: Did I mention delicious

   

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : uwu

 

> **Nachrichten [mit Feliciano und Lovino]** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE

Prussia chucks his phone.

Robert gives him a dull look. “What are you so angry about?”

“What are you so depressed about?”

He never answers.

* * *

 

 _3\. Mai 2015_   

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Why haven’t you talked to Roderich or Elizabeta at all?
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Holy shit they got you in on it??
> 
> > **Ludwig** : Excuse me?
> 
> > **Gilbert** : oh nvm
> 
> > **Ludwig** : I was just talking to Roderich over the phone and he mentioned you haven’t contacted him or Eliza at all
> 
> > **Gilbert** : ...I’ll text them tomorrow
> 
> > **Ludwig** : (^~^)
> 
> > **Gilbert** : (^~^)

* * *

 

_4\. Mai 2015_

Yeah. He still doesn’t text them.

* * *

 

 _5\. Mai 2015_  

At breakfast, Russia approaches him

“The director wants you to come watch our training session this Friday.”

“The 8th?” Prussia asks.

“I don’t know, sure.”

He starts walking away.

“Wait; why?” Prussia blurts out.

“The fuck I should know.”

* * *

 

“Because it will be interesting!” Halim says when Prussia asks him about it. It’s the first time he’s been at Hong Kong and Taiwan’s session in a couple of days.

“That explains nothing,” Prussia responds, frustrated.

Halim sighs; then switches to Arabic. “Listen, I’m not supposed to talk about this, but…there’s going to be a lot of high-ranking government officials there, and they want to see you. So you’re coming, alright?”

“Fine.”

Halim walks away, going over to where Ilse is standing.

“They’re flirting,” Robert mutters from his spot on the bench.

Prussia ignores that statement. “Are you going to the training session on the 8th?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, will you be okay? That requires actually doing something, you know.”

Robert’s pocket vibrates. He ignores both him and it as usual.

* * *

  

[Halim and Ilse]

* * *

 

It’s 1 PM, so it’s time for lunch.

Prussia catches Ilse before they head inside. “Hey, is there a meeting on the 20th?”

She blinks. “Yeah, back at the UN building. It’s going to be like the first one you attended, but hopefully without…someone getting shot.” She frowns. “Why’re you asking?”

“Robert mentioned it to himself, then like, freaked out and powerwalked away.”

“Robert has issues.”

“Why do you keep dragging him here if you hate him, then?”

Ilse looks away. “Because he reminds me of my father.”

Halim trots over before Prussia can say anything.

Ilse rubs her temples. “I’m not in the mood—”

“I just saw the Swiss owner of this place giving someone a handgun for no apparent reason.”

“Fuck, again?”

“ _Again_?” Prussia asks.

“Go have lunch, Gilbert,” Ilse mutters.

He walks away in a daze; then gets even more confused when he reaches the break room.

Taiwan and Hong Kong are just…screaming and throwing shit. Tomatoes from their salad, forks, napkins—everything.

Eventually, they calm down, both breaking off into a fit of laughter.

“Shit, now we have to clean this up,” Taiwan says once she’s regained her composure. Neither she nor Hong Kong notices Prussia in the doorway.

“Fuck it,” Hong Kong responds. He’s standing awfully close to her.

She rolls her eyes and leans into him.

“Thanks,” she then whispers. His face is pink. “You’re right; it did help.”

Hong Kong smiles.

“It’s really funny to picture you doing this as a kid, though.”

“I used to break shit all the time. It was great.”

Taiwan laughs.

Hong Kong then glances at the ground. “To be honest, I’ve been tempted to do this myself for a while…”

“Because of Yong-Soo?”

He fidgets.

Taiwan looks exasperated. “Kha Loung, stop thinking about him.”

His expression breaks. “But why is he avoiding me!? He even refuses to look in my direction!”

“I love Yong-Soo, but he can be an ass sometimes. I’ve told you; just ignore him. His mood will pass.”

“But I don’t want to ignore him!”

Taiwan frowns.

Hong Kong’s eyebrows are pinched together. “I’m sorry; I don’t know why I’m so worked up about this.”

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I was trying to help; not—not make you listen to my issues.”

Taiwan seems lost in thought.

“You’re upset,” she then mumbles.

Hong Kong squirms. “Y-Yes?”

“Well, Yao said this would make you feel better, so.” She takes a deep breath.

“What?”

Prussia suddenly feels like he’s intruding, having no idea why they haven’t noticed him yet.

Taiwan leans in and kisses him.

It’s quick. It’s really quick, but it leaves Hong Kong a blubbering mess, causing him to back up and slip on a tomato.

Prussia walks away, hearing Taiwan’s laugh echo down the hall.

He never thought in a million years she would reciprocate his feelings, but he’s been proven wrong bef—

Mr. Swiss man is handing some random Chinese dude a rifle.

Prussia powerwalks away after they notice him, feeling his head spin. He passes Robert, who is blankly staring at a pager, but he barely registers it. Instead, he feels himself becoming more and more nauseous. A mutiny wasn’t supposed to be something that could actually happen. What the _hell_?

He rips out his cell phone, having no idea what else to do.

> **Nachrichten [mit Liz und Rod]** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Can I call you two right now or are you busy 

It takes less than a minute for them to respond.     

> > **Liz** : are you okay??
> 
> > **Rod** : I’m not busy--what’s wrong

Prussia dials their numbers.

“Gilbert?” Austria rushes out. 

“Yeah,” he chokes.”

“What’s wrong?” Hungary demands.

Prussia doesn’t even know.

“I—I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just overreacting. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Austria soothes.

Prussia clenches his phone.

“It’s nice to hear your voice,” Hungary eventually murmurs.

“Yeah,” Prussia breathes.

He becomes so absorbed in their conversation about mundane stuff that he almost misses Robert shuffle by, talking to that Chinese dude and Mr. Swiss Man.

He doesn’t let himself think about it.

* * *

 

“So, are you two, like, a thing now?” Prussia asks during the car ride home. The whole gun incident/possible mutiny thing is still in the back of his mind, but he’s bottling it up like he’s been doing with everything else lately.

While Hong Kong chokes on seemingly nothing, Taiwan scrunches up her eyebrows. “Wait, you saw us?”

“I was literally right there in the doorway.”

“Oh.”

Prussia waits for the UN driver to make a comment but then remembers she’s American and probably only knows English.

Taiwan dully looks at Hong Kong. “I dunno. Are we?”

She’s in the hump seat as usual, and Hong Kong is trying to edge away. His face is quickly turning red.

“I mean, whatever floats your boat,” he blurts out in English.

Prussia laughs. “ _Whatever floats your boat?_ ”

Taiwan gives a fond smile. “Then I say we wait until this ordeal is over before making anything official.”

Hong Kong nods. He’s unable to make eye contact.

He looks happy, though.

Prussia thinks about South Korea; then buries that with the rest of his useless thoughts.

* * *

 

They’re the last ones back.

As soon as they enter the front door, Prussia can’t help himself.

“GUESS WHO’S A THING NOW!?”

“Shut up,” Hong Kong hisses. “Don’t let Yao—”

China and Russia are in the office right next to them.

“…hear,” Hong Kong finishes, the words dying on his lips.

They both look like shit, but that doesn’t stop China from smirking. He stands up and lazily walks over, Russia following. “Finally. I told you you’d have to make the first move, Mei. It was you, right?”

Taiwan shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Good to know that while we’re going through hell, you guys have time to flirt,” Russia mutters.

They all start talking, but Prussia finds himself zoning out.

His phone then vibrates.

He walks into the dining room, which he thinks he’s been in a grand total of one time now, and opens up the abundance of texts.

> **Nachrichten [mit Liz, Rod, Feliciano, Lovino, Ludwig, und Kiku]** :
> 
>             [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : OH MY GOD MR. PRUSSIA YOU DID IT~~~
> 
> > **Lovino** : Why are you making this a group chat
> 
> > **Lovino** : But seriously Gilbert did you drink the fucking smoothie or what
> 
> > **Ludwig** : I’m confused what did he do
> 
> > **Feliciano** : uwu he talked to people uwu ~~~
> 
> > **Kiku** : I’m also confused as to why I’m being included in this conversation
> 
> > **Feliciano** : OMFG KIKU HI.
> 
> > **Feliciano** : i knew you wouldn’t respond to my texts unless I forced you into a group chat
> 
> > **Feliciano** : r u and Gilbert in the same room? Get him to respond
> 
> > **Kiku** : I’m not even aware if Gilbert is back at the house yet
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m back at the house
> 
> > **Feliciano** : GILBERT
> 
> > **Lovino** : Well?????????
> 
> > **Liz** : The hell is happening here

Prussia really, _really_ , hates group chats.   

> > **Gilbert** : I’m turning my phone on silent.
> 
> > **Lovino** : You’re dead to me
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Your fuckign smoothie stunk up the whole house

* * *

 

Everyone is in the living room.

“You missed Elizabeta and Feliciano sending each other emojis back and forth,” Japan mutters to Prussia.

He snaps his fingers. “ _Darn_.”

Japan rolls his eyes. “But besides that, it was nice to talk to everyone again.”

Prussia smiles, then glances around the room and sees Hong Kong and Taiwan acting coupley.

He doesn’t miss South Korea gawking.

* * *

 

_7\. Mai 2015_

“You’re coming with Alfred, Yao, and I tomorrow to our training session,” Russia dully reminds him in the morning.

“Yeah,” Prussia mutters. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (image commissioned from vicious-mongrel.tumblr.com)
> 
> I had to google info about guns and shooting ranges. Here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shooting_range  
> I went to a shooting range once when I was, like, 6 with my dad. Neither of us likes guns. Both of us are still baffled why we went. But I can say I shot a rifle, I guess.
> 
> Also this is bothering me since I listened to this entire chapter when editing—Ilse’s name is pronounced (IL-SAH) Google translate and other audio programs I use kept butchering it -.-


	16. Duel State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are real people in this chapter. I tried to keep them ‘accurate.’

  _8\. Mai 2015_

“You’re not wearing a suit,” Halim greets in Arabic.

Prussia scrunches up his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

Halim pushes past him and walks further into the house. “Put something nicer on.”

“Why are you even here?” Prussia’s at the front door, dressed in boxers and a ratty t-shirt. “We’re not supposed to go until, like, 7.”

“We have to leave earlier than usual today.”

“But—”

Halim disappears into the kitchen. Prussia sighs; then shuts the door and follows him.

“No one else is awake,” Halim says when Prussia approaches him.

“Yeah, because we usually don’t have training until later.”

He frowns. “Well, we need to get going soon. I’m driving you, Russia, America, and China.”

“I know,” Prussia says flatly.

There’s a long pause.

“So _do_ you have a suit?” Halim asks.

“Why do I need a fucking—”

“The US Secretary of State and the Russian and Chinese Foreign Ministers will be at this training session. So, it would be best if you dressed up, probably.”

Prussia groans and heads upstairs, fumbling with his bedroom door when he gets there.

Spain jolts awake as soon as he opens it.

“Antonio. ANTONIO, calm down. You’re not late.”

Spain freezes. He’s by his dresser holding a shirt.

Prussia forces out a grin. “I just have to change.”

Spain drops the clothing and sits back on his bed. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long…”

“You never came up to the room. You fell asleep on the couch again, didn’t you?”

“…”

“When did you go to bed?”

“I—”

“Gilbert.”

“5 AM…”

“It’s 6—” Spain looks at the clock. “It’s 6:07 now, and you went to bed at _5_?”

“It prevents any nightmares,” Prussia mutters, “if I’m exhausted.”

“Fuck, Gilbert, you need to sleep.”

“And what, dissolve while having another nightmare?” He turns away and opens his closet as Spain frowns.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Spain eventually mutters, grabbing his discarded shirt and shuffling out of the room.

Prussia doesn’t respond.

It looks like Germany did pack him a suit for whatever goddamn reason, and he takes it out with reluctance.

“This house is really nice,” Halim says from the doorway.

Prussia nearly has a heart attack. “What—”

“I don’t know German. Hey, you do have a suit. Great!”

Prussia ignores him and starts dressing himself. It’s hard, though, when Halim won’t stop hovering. After he finishes, they head back downstairs to the kitchen, passing the bathroom where Spain is belting out some song in the shower.

It’s 6:18 now, and Russia and China are in the kitchen, both dressed in workout clothing and looking miserable. They’re drinking tea.

They pause when they see them.

“Hi!” Halim cheerily exclaims in English. “I want to try and leave at 6:30, so if you could hurry it up, that would be fantastic!”

They don’t respond.

“Where’s America? Is he awake?”

“Why would we know?” Russia mutters in English, taking another sip of his drink.

Halim shifts impatiently. “Well, we have to get going.”

“We do?” America asks, seeming confused. He’s standing in the doorway with Japan. “But it’s still early.”

Halim now looks nervous. “I know, but today’s special.”

America frowns, and Prussia can tell he’s still drowsy when he stumbles over to the counter.

Japan flanks him. “Alfred, sit down. I’ll make you coffee.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit down.”

America sighs. He then gives Prussia a funny look after he takes a seat. “Why are you in a suit?”

“Great question.” He points to Halim. “Ask him.”

America glances in his direction; then lies his head down on the table.

Prussia blinks. Sure, Halim’s being a little annoying this morning, but…

After Japan finishes making America a cup of coffee, he walks over and places it in front of his head. He then takes a seat next to him.

Prussia continues to stand there like an idiot as Halim checks his watch. “We need to leave soon.”

Japan bristles.

Everyone else begins to meander into the kitchen as they slowly finish their drinks. Each new Nation seems to make Halim more and more nervous.

Prussia nearly jumps when France clasps his shoulder. “Why are you in a suit?”

He shrugs. “I have to look nice for this training thing.”

“Ah…”

Halim is almost pacing. “We need to go now, please.”

The three miserably stand up as Spain enters the kitchen. “You’re leaving?” he asks, frowning at Prussia.

France drops his hand. Prussia nods. America is hugging Japan and looks like he’s about to cry.

“I guess.”

* * *

 

Prussia has become accustomed to the slightly dodgy place that he, Taiwan, and Hong Kong have been training at, so after an hour and a half of driving, he’s unprepared when they pull up to this state-of-the-art facility.

He climbs out after they park, feeling weirdly nervous. China, America, and Russia seem unfazed, though, as they follow Halim towards the large building.

They’re descended upon at the door.

Five guys start talking all at once, pointing, yelling at each other in a bunch of different languages, and Prussia’s instantly overwhelmed. It’s like his brain short circuits and stops processing what they’re saying. He begins to panic and misses the other three being led away.

_Fuck._

“Prussia.”

_Focus. Come on._

“Prussia.”

_Deep breath—_

“Gilbert!”

He jumps, realizing it’s just him and Halim standing outside now.

Halim’s eyebrows are pinched together. “Are you okay?” he asks in Arabic.

Prussia releases a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he responds in the same language.

Halim doesn’t look convinced. “…Alright. Well, those were the trainers—real nice bunch, huh? They’ll be setting everything up. In the meantime, let’s head to the observation room. That’s where Ilse and Robert should be.”

Prussia nods and relaxes a bit.

They’re hit with a cool gust of AC when they walk inside. Some people are milling around, but most aren’t paying attention.

That is, until they recognize Prussia.

“Just ignore them,” Halim hisses in Arabic, walking even faster.

It’s hard, though, when there’s a bunch of people boring their eyes into him. 

“Fuck off,” Robert suddenly barks.

Prussia’s eyes immediately land on his approaching figure. He looks to be in a better mood than the sulking husk of a man he usually deals with.

“I said, _fuck off_ ,” Robert spits again. Most of the people who were staring heed to his command and shuffle away.

“The place Taiwan and Hong Kong are training at is a shithole compared to here,” Prussia finds himself blurting out when Robert finally reaches them—in English, of course.

Halim forces out a grin. “Yeah. Now you can see who they’re really putting the training emphasis on!” He turns to Robert. “Is Ilse here?”

“She’s back in the observation room talking to some of the _guests_.” He nearly spits out that word. “They’re barraging her with a bunch of questions.”

“Okay. Well then, I guess I should head there!”

Robert frowns. “Yeah. That’s why I came to fetch you.”

Halim nods and trots down the hallway.

“Should we join them?” Prussia ends up asking after they stand there for a weird moment.

Robert rubs his face. “I guess.”

“You’re in a better mood than usual,” Prussia says after they start walking.

“Not really. I’m just pissed off.”

They reach the observation room before he can respond.

It’s pretty large—rectangular shaped and littered with chairs. In addition, the far wall is solid glass, overlooking what seems to be a gym.

Prussia fidgets, glancing around until he spots Ilse. She’s being cornered by the American Secretary of State, John Kerry.

The other foreign ministers, Sergey Lavrov and Wang Yi, are off in the corner, speaking to each other. When the two spot Halim, though, they make a beeline for him, Kerry following. Prussia takes the chance to approach Ilse.

“Well, that was nerve-racking,” she mutters.

Prussia laughs as she looks over his shoulder and glares. “Robert, you left me.”

He twitches. “Only to get Halim so they would bother him instead of you.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“He started asking me scientific things. Like, why the hell would I know?”

“The Secretary of State is oblivious to this type of shit.”

“What’s the point of me being here?” Prussia blurts out before Ilse can respond.

She frowns. “The Foreign Ministers/Secretary of State wanted to see you.”

“ _Why_?”

“Gilbert, I’m just as in the dark as you.”

Halim walks in their direction, the three government officials following. “So out there is a little training course set up that you will see the Nations complete to demonstrate their strength! Uh, this ranges from weightlifting to personal combat—the whole shebang! Guns will also be tested.”

“Shebang?” Wang mouths to a nearby Chinese man, clearly confused. The man shrugs.

“What about this serum I’ve been hearing about?” Kerry asks.

“Ah yes, the serum. I suppose it’s great stuff—it demonstrates a collaboration between the Russians and Americans now!” Halim forces out a laugh. “Uh, mainly an invention of the Russians and improved with American research, this serum heightens what we’ve coined a Nation’s ‘duel state.’”

Now Prussia is interested.

“What does that mean?” Wang asks.

“Hmm yes, I can understand how that would be confusing. Nations have the ability to ‘duel’ each other—uh, focus all of their presence on each other and turn vicious as they engage in combat. It’s a survival tactic in war. This state can be forcefully entered when two Nations end up fighting in a duel, hence ‘duel state,’ get it? Um, or it can be achieved when a Nation is dying. They’ll, uh, enter this state in an attempt to keep living.”

No response.

Halim continues. “In the ‘duel state,’ uh, a Nation’s eyes are red, and their strength and presence are heightened. This gives them an advantage in combat—uh, makes them nearly unstoppable.”

Prussia doesn’t like the direction of this conversation.

Halim is now full on rambling. “The Russians and Americans have…what’s the word—uh, jointly created a serum that—that activates a Nation’s ‘duel state.’ I won’t go into too much detail—I don’t think I can in English anyway—uh, but this serum releases a compound in a Nation’s blood that forces them into the duel state. And this is what we’ve been testing out on Russia, America, and China lately—giving them different doses of the serum so just their strength is partially increased! Uh, their healing rate also improves, so it’s good! Yes!”

“You said there would be no experiments,” Prussia hisses in Arabic, feeling nauseous.

Halim side-eyes him. “Not now, Prussia,” he responds in the same language. His forehead is shiny with sweat.

“So, this is one of the German Nation Avatars?” Lavrov asks in English, scanning him.

“Yes,” Ilse responds quickly.

“Interesting. He’s the one who caused this shit, no?”

“Sorry I wasn’t a loyal Nazi,” Prussia spits, hating every time someone accuses him of this shit. “Because that’s what you’re referring to—the fact I rebelled against Hitler. That’s what you’re angry I did.”

“You’re the reason our Russian Nation Avatar—”

“It was you and your—”

“Why don’t we take a seat!?” Halim hastily interrupts. “The training session should be starting soon!”

Wang shakes his head. “I want to watch it from there.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to be in here; I want to see up close. I don’t want to be deceived. Such things cannot continue.”

Halim fidgets. “Well, I can promise you that you won’t be. And anyway, it’s much safe—”

“I also want to get closer,” Kerry interjects.

“O…kay,” Halim says slowly. “Then we’ll, uh, go into the training room.”

Everyone grabs their belongings, and they’re led into the large gym below.

All twenty-so of them silently stand in the corner until Lavrov approaches Prussia.

“Has the information you’ve given on Kazimir over the years been accurate?”

Prussia frowns. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“We Russians are taking direct responsibility for Kazimir and his actions, especially since he could have nukes.” Lavrov narrows his eyes. “So if any information you gave is misleading…”

Prussia can feel Robert, Halim, and Ilse staring at them.

“Well, it’s not,” he mutters. “I wouldn’t lie about that asshole.”

“…”

“That old American man over there knew him more personally, you know.”

“I’m aware. He was already interrogated earlier.”

Prussia squeezes his eyebrows together. “ _Interrogated_?”

“All this Russian,” Wang grumbles in English. “Speak in a language we all know.”

Lavrov mutters something as Robert’s pocket vibrates. He doesn’t move.

“What’s taking so long?” Kerry asks.

Halim shifts. “They’re being injected. They should be out any moment now.”

As soon as he finishes that sentence, America, Russia, and China enter.

The three are with some trainers. They pause for a split second when they notice the group of extra people, but the trainers push them forward.

One of them then approaches Halim. “Why is everyone in here and not in the observation room?” he asks in French, gesturing to the government officials.

“They insisted,” Halim responds in the same language, his accent thick.

“We have the training regimens here,” another trainer announces, walking over.

…

  1. _Aerobic demonstration (15 minutes)_
    1. _Running 1 kilometer around a track as fast as possible_
    2. _Pedaling as fast as they can on spin bikes for the remaining time_
  2. _Strength demonstration (15 minutes—5 for each Nation)_
    1. _Using a lift machine—lift as much weight as possible_
  3. _Shooting demonstration (30 minutes—10 for each Nation)_
    1. _Targets will be set up, and the Nations will be expected to hit them using various types of guns_
  4. _Demonstration of their knowledge of military tactics and hand signals (30 minutes—10 for each Nation)_
    1. _Nations will be tested by their trainers_
  5. _Hand to hand combat demonstration (15 minutes)_
    1. _Nations will spar with one another_



_Estimated time for completion: An hour and 45 minutes_

… 

Prussia looks up just as the trainers gesture to where America, Russia, and China are supposed to stand. There’s an uncomfortable moment as they shuffle into place, and then as soon as they’re given the signal, they start running.

Two trainers walk over. “We gave them an extra dose of the serum,” one mutters to Halim in English. “So they would perform better.”

He scrunches up his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because we need them to do well,” the other cuts in. “The Foreign Ministers and Secretary of State won’t give us their approvals to move ahead otherwise. If they’re dissatisfied, then we have to scrap this ‘Nation Army’ idea and start all over.”

Prussia looks back to the other three, his eyes instantly drawn to America. He, Russia, and China are all going at about the same pace. But while Russia and China are running normally, he looks…off.

“America doesn’t look okay,” he mumbles.

Halim nearly glares at him, appearing frazzled. “He’s keeping pace with Russia and China, and they’re all on track for completing the kilometer in 4 minutes. Nothing is wrong with him.”

“They’re very fast,” Kerry muses, staring intently.

“It’s easy for them to get into peak physical condition. This is because of…” Halim drones on, but Prussia stops paying attention.

He nudges Ilse. “America still doesn’t look okay,” he mutters in German.

“It’s not like we can do anything about it,” she grumbles back.

Eventually, the three finish.

“That was about 4 minutes and 10 seconds for all of them,” one of the trainers announces.

“Wow,” Wang mumbles.

America is breathing heavily, and he’s swaying back and forth. No one seems to care.

“Can I leave now?” Robert mutters to seemingly no one. He looks twitchy.

Ilse frowns. “It’s better than staying in your room,” she says in a soft voice.

Some other American has a different approach.

“If you didn’t want to be here, then maybe you shouldn’t have been a traitor,” he sneers at the same time.

“I’m not a traitor, Joseph,” Robert spits.

“Up next, cardio!” Halim quickly interjects. At the same time, another American tells ‘Joseph’ to shut up. “The exercise bikes are over—”

Russia accidentally bumps into America.

In an instant, America’s eyes turn bright red. He grabs Russia’s arm and flips him.

It snaps.

China yelps in pain, collapsing to the ground as Russia scrambles up, his eyes now bright red as well. He quickly puts some distance between him and America, clutching his bad arm. It’s just hanging there, looking broken, and there’s some bone sticking out from the elbow.

Blood is getting on the floor.

“They’re not allies,” Prussia blurts out in English, terrified. “You induced them into this state, and they’re not allies. They see each other as enemies.”

“Is that bad?” Kerry has the audacity to ask.

Prussia’s heart is beating in his throat. Only three people in their entire entourage have guns.

“They could easily kill us right now,” he hisses, his voice an octave higher than usual. “A Nation’s only in this state when they’re fighting for survival. So right now, these three have been tricked into thinking they’re doing that, and all they can see are presences, and because Russia, the US, and China aren’t allies, they see each other as threats,” Prussia rambles. “They see you guys as threats too.”

Russia and America are still facing each other, unmoving like they’re two predators facing off. Russia is gripping his arm, and Prussia can see it healing. Shit, he can _hear_ it.

“Yao,” he finds himself desperately calling.

“I’m this close to losing it,” China responds, his voice strangled.

_Fuck—_

“If you have a gun, drop it,” Prussia says in English, then Russian, then Chinese.

“ _What?_ ” Wang demands.

“They make us seem like more of a threat. Just set them on the ground.”

“I’m not listening to a Nation,” one of the three guards hisses, his eyes wild.

America twitches.

Prussia’s heart is beating rapidly. “We’re not that far from the door. If you just drop your guns, we can edge towards it undetected.”

The security guard ignores him and shoots America’s shoulder.

Hell breaks loose.

“WHY’D YOU DO THAT!?” Prussia screams as America charges towards them. The bullets didn’t even cause him to flinch.

Russia tackles him to the ground.

Them trying to murder each other causes China to lose what little control he was clinging to. His eyes turn bright red.

“Get behind me!” Prussia screams as America slams Russia to the ground, putting him in a chokehold. He wildly looks around. Kerry, Wang, and Lavrov are cowering behind him while Ilse, Halim, and Robert are on his other side. The nearby trainers, meanwhile, sprint to the other side of the room as the guards chuck their guns.

China comes into contact with America.

_Once they finish killing each other, whoever’s left will probably go for the people here._

Prussia scrambles forward, picking up a machine gun from the ground.

“Those didn’t even do anything!” one American screams. Someone’s crying.

“Getting them in the head can buy some time, though,” he hisses, having a semi-clear shot.

The noise is abrupt.

China’s head caves in, his body rolling to the side of America. Blood smears everywhere. Prussia can see it immediately healing, though.

America and Russia are moving too much. He can’t kill them in one shot. He’s not sure if the bullets will only aggravate them either. They _are_ distracted, though, so they should try to leave while they have the time—

America snaps Russias’ neck.

_Fuck._

His head then jerks towards Lavrov, and he charges forward, causing Prussia’s brain to short-circuit. He drops the gun and runs towards him, trying to force himself into his duel state, trying to make his goddamn body cooperate: sense presences, exert what little strength it has, do _something_.

Russia twitches. Half of China’s face has already reconstructed itself.

Prussia rams into America using his right shoulder.

All it does is give him a clear shot.

He thrusts back and slams Prussia to the ground. Prussia sees stars, hearing his shoulder _crack_ —

A gunshot.

America falls. Robert walks closer, having a wild look in his eyes, holding a pistol. He shoots again. America is now foaming at the mouth. He keeps shooting and shooting until all three of the Nations s҉t̕ơ̴p͠

Prussia realizes his vision is fading.

Ilse i҉s̡ ̛h̶yp̶e͏r͞ve͢nt̨il̴at̸ing. ̡“̵H̢E’͟S ͝B̷LEE̛DI͘N̷G OUT͝.”

The ̢p͘o͝ol o̷f͡ b̨lood ąrou̷nd h͏im do̸esn’͜t̵ şȩem rȩal.͘ No͡t̕hing ̡şeem͢s real.̧

“HA̷L͡IM͏, H҉E  NEE͞DS҉ ŢO G͢O̷ TO҉ A̶ HOS̕PITAL̕!”̷ ͝

“̢T̢͏͡h̢̕e͟r̴͟e̡ ̛a̡͠r͡͏e͘ m̧e͡dį͠c̶͘al͟͟ s͘u̸͠pp͝l͝į̸e͘͝s̵̛ h̴e̵re̡—̴̷͢”̶

“H҉e n̢͟͢ee̸͡d̨͜s͏͢ ̕ą͝ ̢h͢oş̷pit̴a͟͠l̵!̶ P̢͘͞le͠a̡͜sę̸̶.”

“O̶̢k̕͜a͘͜͟y̧͟͞,͘ Į’͞m͡ ͘s͟͝o͜r̵̛͟r̷y͠. I̶̧’̢͝m͏̢̛ ͞s͟o s̡̢͞o͘͘r͝r͝y̷͜.̷̧͜”̸̴

S͘͏҉o̢̢͏̴m͘͞͠͡e̡̕̕t̷̢͟͞h̡͘͝i̸͜͏͘ņ̶͠g̨̡̛͠ d̨r̵̛o҉͘͘̕p̶s̶.̸͘͘͟ ̵͝

Ş̡͘͢ơ̷m̢͢͢͠e͝o̵̶͘n̡͢͜͢e̕ į͢͟s̛͘͜ ̨c͘̕͞r̴̡̛y̵̨i͏̷̕͞n̡͜͟͡g̨͢͡͏.͏̸̸

“̴̨̒ͯ̽̈́̒̀̉̍̚͜T̴ͫͯ̐̈́̋̈̏ͩ͌ͦͬ͟h̵̡̡͋̏ͦ͊̀̂̏̒͑͛̏̃͊̚̚͝ȉ̢̉ͥ̅ͪ͑̆́̍̕͝s̵̴̓͌̉ͫ̊͐ͭͣͨͣͫ͊̍͒ͤͪ͋̚͜͢ į̷̸̧̑́ͯ̔ͯͭ̚š̵̓̾̓̄ͯ̍ͬ̓͆̋ͩ̀ͮ̆ͣ̚͘͜͠ ͛w̶ͥ̅̾̉̓͒́̍ͦ̆̚͝h̸͑̿ͩ͒̓͌̿̃a̶̡̛ͤ̅ͭ̑ͩͥ̌ͥ̑͢t̷̵̶̊̈͂̄ͯ̌̾́͛̇͜͠ ͩŅ̶̵̡͋ͫ̀̀ͤ́̈͟àͬ̌̑͐ͭ͂̆̄̋̏̇̾ͥ͝͞t̴̢͑ͬͮ͆ͩͭͥ͊̉̔̑ȋ̸̛͂̆̇ͯ̉̋͑̽͂͗͒̊͡ȯ͛̒̽́̉ͮ͞҉̧͝ņ̸̸̛́͑͂̇̽̾̒̆̅̆̈́͞s̷̢̧̧͛̿̆̋̑̀̇̾̈́ͯ̕ ͯ̉ĉͩ̊̋̍ͩͭ͗̀͐͑̒͜͜͢a̡̛͒͗̽̎̆̇̃ͨ̋̇͌ͬͩͭ̚n̶̵̍͛ͨ̇̿ͣ̅ͧ̾̏̇ͤ͟ t̡̏̍͂͆͋̂ͤ̽ͩ̌́͝҉ű́̉̽̀͌̒͌͐͗͊͑̅ͨ͠͞ṙ͂̍̾̈̀͛̆ͥ̔͒̄̇ͦͩ͟͠n̍̎ͪ̽̃͂̂ͥ̈̉̿̒̌ͦ̓͗̚͜͞҉͜ ͭ̅i̵̶͋ͥ̏̓̒̐̈́͊ͭͥ͆̈̉̚n̛͛̐̆̚̚̕͘ṫ̈́̐ͩ̆͢͞o̸̎ͧͬ̎̌ͫ͢͞͞?̵̷̛͊̍̔ͭ͗”̧̐͗̍ͧͩͪ̏̓̆̋̉̀ͩ̊ͤ̍ͥ̚͢

“Nͯ̔́̎̾͒̏ͦ̅̒̍́̆ͥ͛̑̚͜͞ǫ̔͑̃͏̸̛͝ ͨî͗̓̏̊͛̈́̌ͥ͏̸̨t̉̆ͣ̏̓̍̍ͭͤ͗͆̅

ͪ.̵̭̳̞̼̗͕̙̱̰̲̠ͫͫ̋̍ͯͥ̍ͧ͛ͦ̋ͪ̑̔͗ͪͧ͆͝ẉ̭̬̜͔̽̋̌ͣ͒͗͆̌͂̔ͩ̅̎̾͛̍̑ͣ̚͜ȍ̸̭̭͓̺̪̼̜̭̥̘͖̦̗͙̺̯͓̭ͣ̽̿͊̈ͩ̈́̓̿ͪ̅͘͝r̶͚̙̘̫̩̫̤̞̺̺͙͕̼̜̻̫̻͈̽̏̿͢k̵͈̣̜̟̭͉̆̾̽͆ͤ̀̌̎ͥ͛ͤ̃̋̓̚̚ͅ ̒͑̐ͭ̒̊́̋͑͆̐̽̃͂̎̓͗҉̶̵̰̯͓̹͇̩̯͟ơ̲̜̺̞͈ͩ̍̇ͣ̐ͬ̏͑̑ͯͬ̄̒ͤ̉ͪ̎́u

ŵ̢̇͌̽ͯ͌ͪ͒̑̚҉̷̢̼̺͈̝̺͇̜͎͍̗̫͎̪͕͓ͅh̽̐ͣ͊́ͣ͂̌͝͏̴̨̪͚̙͖̰̹̯̞̞̹͚̰̠̰̻͚̣ͅã̋ͦ͐͏̡̡͇̥̫̲̪̜̼͖̜͞t̵̡̊͊̌̾ͣ̍͌̊̓͆͌̽́͛̀̆͛̑̉҉̴̟͈̭͇̪͓̮̞̟͖̣͎ ͋d̢͚̹̳͓͚͓̺̻̼̤͗̽̋̀ͭi̹̙͉̠͓̥̖̩͍͍̝̮͇̍̀͆̆̽̑̃̚͡͞͞s̸̴̮̰͚̼͓̗̮̙̩̗͕̞̈̎͌͛ͦ͋̈͆̈́̒̈ͤ͐̋͐ͫ͗̈ͣ̕͝s̢̛ͩͧ̆̎̏͂ͬ̔͒̍̌͏̫̼͔̯͈͖̰͡ͅo̜̮͎̜̩̤͕͇͔͎̞͈̞̯͕͒͊̿̋ͫ̎͊̄͂̑͒ͥ̄̈̔̀͢͠l̶̟̬̱͙͕͉̠̰͓̳̻͓̰̝̼̠̯̭͆̾́͋̕͞v̸̧̰͇̰̖̳̼̠͊̾ͧ͑̑̂̈̐̄ͪͯ͘e̛̛̘͍̙̘̝̠̽̉͆͊͗̌̋͐̒̅̇͆ͭ̅̊͗͊͢?̷̨̛̜̪͈̯͔̪̲̻̬̯̘̹̃̋̒ͬ̏̍́ͮͯ͛ͥ̄̄ͩ̅͠ ̡͉͖̭̞͙̗̳͓̮̹̊ͧ̓͋͐͆̎̆̉́ͥͦ̚͡

 

 

* * *

 

When he wakes, he’s on a hospital bed.

“Gilbert?” someone says. Their voice echoes, but he knows it’s Ilse.

He blinks, desperately trying to focus on her face.

“You just got out of surgery, but you’re going to be okay,” she continues. “You’re going to be okay.”

Prussia tries nodding. It hurts too much.

“You’re on some heavy pain meds right now, and you got a major blood transfusion, but you’ll recover. Your shoulder will also need to be in a cast for a while. There are screws in it. I—I don’t know why I’m telling you this; you probably can’t even understand me.” She seems distressed. Prussia has no idea how to help.

Someone else says something. It’s not in German, though, so he can’t understand.

“Oh, right. There’s an alliance now, okay? So this shouldn’t happen again…” 

* * *

 

He wakes up again because he has to pee.

He’s completely disoriented. The room he’s in is dark, and his head is pounding, and _fuck,_ moving hurts.

Staying as still as possible, he attempts to examine himself. He realizes he’s still on a shitty hospital bed, covered by a thin blanket and dressed in a medical gown. There’s an IV in his left arm while his right arm and shoulder are a mess. It’s bandaged, in a cast, and fastened to the bed. It looks like someone has changed the gauze on his thumb as well.

His eyes follow the tubes sticking out of his arm to where his IV is hooked up; then scan the room. He immediately notices that he isn’t alone. Russia, China, and America are with him, lying on some beds jammed into the remaining space left. China is the closest to him, then Russia, then America by the door.

The three are unconscious, dressed in gowns and hooked up to some IVs, just like him. He can’t see any noticeable injuries on them.

 _Shit_ , he has to pee.

He looks for a button or something, but there’s nothing.

He curses. China stirs immediately.

“What the hell?” he asks after they stare at each other. His voice cracks.

Prussia would shrug, but the action is impossible at the moment. He’s just relieved he can understand Mandarin.

China looks around. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence.

Prussia squeezes his legs. “Hey, though, I _really_ have to pee, so is there, like, a button near you or something to alert someone?”

China fidgets, scanning the area around him. “Not that I can—” He must notice his injuries because suddenly he becomes incoherent. “Wait, what—your shoulder?”

“I was stupid,” Prussia rushes out.

China stares at him.

“I…rammed myself into America.” Prussia studies his hand. “You were able to resist the serum for a bit, at least.”

He frowns. “Only because they gave me a lower dosage since I weigh less.”

Russia makes a groaning sound.

China hastily turns towards him. “Ivan?”

He glances around. “…Where are we?”

“A hospital room.”

Russia sits up, his actions sluggish. “I’m attached to an IV.”

“Me too.”

“Me three,” Prussia mumbles, squeezing his legs even tighter.

Russia jumps. “The hell happened to you?”

“I prevented your Foreign Minister from being killed.”

“How are you feeling?” China asks.

Russia stares at Prussia; then rubs his face. “Not…great.”

“I _really_ have to pee,” Prussia moans before he can ask anything else.

China looks at him; then sighs and takes out his IV.

That causes Russia to get rigid. “Yao, don’t.”

He ignores him and stands up, walking over to some cabinets. Prussia watches as he rummages through them; then takes out a plastic container.

They make eye contact.

China frowns. “You’ll have to make do with this.”

“That’s fine,” Prussia blurts out, feeling Russia stare at them.

He then realizes that he can barely move.

China must so too because he pauses. They then look at each other uncomfortably.

“I really have to go,” Prussia blurts out, throwing away his pride.

China sighs. “Okay, here.”

“Stop staring at us,” Prussia snaps at Russia, who hastily looks away.

It’s silent as China adjusts everything. After a few moments, Prussia’s finally able to relieve himself.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, trying to ignore how hot his face is.

China holds the piss filled container. “…No problem.” He ends up hiding it in the corner.

“What time is it?” Russia asks after China uses some hand sanitizer.

“There’s no clock in here,” Prussia responds.

“Why wouldn’t there be—”

“Ivan, you should remove your IV,” China interrupts, staring at his hand. “God knows what’s in it.”

Russia studies the pouches hanging next to him.

“Please.”

“…Okay.” He takes it out and winces. The wound heals immediately, though.

They all stare at America’s figure.

“He’s going to be a mess when he wakes up,” Russia mutters.

China sits down next to him, and now without the pressure from his bladder, Prussia’s mind starts to feel foggy.

“We’ll calm him down together,” China murmurs, leaning his head on Russia’s shoulder.

Prussia drifts off just as Russia kisses him.

* * *

 

“I lost control,” America repeats. “I—”

“Alfred, they drugged us.”

“But I _murdered_ you.” He sounds like he’s hyperventilating. “Fuck, and Prussia—Gilbert—I did—I’m—Ivan, I’m a monster.”

“You weren’t in control of your actions,” Russia murmurs. Prussia’s head is spinning.

“But look at Gilbert! I did that to him! I—”

He opens his eyes. He has no idea how much time has passed, but the room is still dark.

“Alfred,” China says, his voice also strangely soft. “That was not you who hurt him. Given the chance, in the same state, Ivan or I would have done the same. It’s awful what happened, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my sleeping medicine,” America chokes out, his voice shaking. “It’s because I’m drugged up. That m-mixed with the shit they injected. I lost control—”

“Kind of fucked up how 2D animation is going away, huh?” Russia interjects.

America stops crying out of what looks like sheer confusion. “What?”

“3D animation is nice, but I personally like 2D better.”

“Why are you—”

“Yeah, but stop-motion animation is beautiful,” China says, “and that’s 3D.”

“Very true. But it’s interesting how CGI is now being used with it, too.” Russia and China drone on, bantering with each other.

America is confused enough that he stops berating himself.

Prussia, meanwhile, falls right back asleep.

* * *

 

 _9\. Mai 2015_  

“Ssh, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“It’s always me. It’s always fucking me.”

“Alfred, stop.”

Prussia’s eyes flutter open. He feels disoriented when he sees Japan hugging America.

“What’s going on?” he chokes out.

That startles everyone.

Canada awkwardly walks over. “Uh, South Korea, Japan, and I are the first ones to get here. The others will be coming eventually.”

America lets out a sob. Canada flinches.

“Your Nation Advisor told us that a doctor’ll be coming at 10 AM to give you some more pain medication. The last time you had any was 6 AM,” South Korea mutters. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all.

“What time is it now?” Prussia croaks.

Canada checks his watch. “9:20ish.”

He can feel South Korea blatantly staring at his shoulder and squirms.

“Yong-Soo,” China says dully.

His eyes flick away. “What?”

“Is my presence clashing against yours at all right now?”

South Korea frowns. “Uh, no?”

“See,” China mumbles to Russia. “They definitely changed something.”

America lets out another sob and curls into Japan’s chest.

“Hey, guess what,” Canada says to Prussia, looking twitchy.

Nothing feels real. “What?”

“I overheard that we’re going horseback riding soon.”

Despite everything, Prussia almost laughs. “I told you me having cancer would persuade them.”

“I think it’s your shoulder that did it,” South Korea mutters.

Prussia’s thumb twitches. He smiles. He wants to cry.

“Same difference.”

* * *

 

At noon, Ilse and some doctors come in.

They wheel Prussia’s bed out of the room and put him in a separate one.

“You lost a lot of blood,” one of the doctors says. They’re speaking German, but it’s Swiss German, so it’s gross. “And because you have leukemia, when you sustained your injury, you just kept bleeding. We had to give you multiple blood transfusions.”

Prussia’s head is foggy from the pain medication he just received. He nods.

“We also had to put some screws in your bones,” another doctor says. “Plus do a skin graft to repair tissue. There are staples in your shoulder too, so it’s important that you don’t move it at all.”

“I barely understood them at times,” Ilse mutters once they’re gone.

“Where are Robert and Halim?” Prussia asks as a response.

She frowns. “Halim is here, actually. And I don’t know about Robert.”

“Why did he have a gun?”

“I don’t know, Gilbert.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“Considering he saved all of our asses, probably not.”

Prussia fidgets.

“I thought you were going to die,” Ilse whispers. “You were so close…”

Prussia’s vision swims. He looks at his legs.

“I guess I’m not gonna go horseback riding with everyone, huh?” he ends up saying.

“Who told you about that?”

“Canada.”

Ilse sighs. “I wanted it to be a—whatever.” She looks at him, suddenly determined. “Well on Monday, you’ll all be going since training is canceled for a while. You won’t be able to ride, but I can at least find a way to take you to the barn. As long as you’re in a wheelchair—”

“Ilse, what’s happening with the plan now if training’s canceled?”

Her mouth shuts.

“Is the Nation Army still a thing?”

She frowns. “Yes.”

“ _What?_ ”

“A military alliance was just signed between the participating countries. I don’t think they’ll be using those drugs anymore, but the Nation Army is still going to happen.”

Prussia’s head hurts. “Wang, Kerry, and Lavrov _approved_ it!?”

“I think they did because it showed how dangerous it is to leave the missing Nations in Kazimir’s possession.”

Prussia is in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, Gilbert,” Ilse murmurs. “I’ll make sure you never see combat. You just have to wait out this thing, and then we can go back to Germany.”

“…”

“Soon we’ll be back home.”

She looks like she’s trying to convince herself.

* * *

 

They leave Prussia’s bed in the separate room.

Ilse stays with him, running little errands to get him some snacks or water. There’s no TV, though, so Prussia quickly gets bored. Thankfully, his pain medication makes him drowsy, so he mostly dozes off to pass the time.

It’s at one point when he’s halfway between sleep and consciousness that he thinks he hears Ilse talking to someone about physical therapy.

“We’ll try getting him to sit up tomorrow, Ma'am. But really, he should be staying in the hospital.”

“He’s not staying.”

Whoever she’s talking to sighs. “Alright. Well, he’s not supposed to move his shoulder at all, so we’ll have to give you some restraints for when he goes to sleep.”

Prussia forces himself to wake up as the conversation peters out, but it takes a bit. When his vision is finally clear, he realizes he isn’t alone.

“Why are you still fighting? Just give up.”

“Go away,” Prussia murmurs, dazed and confused.

Bavaria frowns. “Not until you—”

The door to the room abruptly opens, and Prussia is nearly blindsided as Spain and France sprint inside.

They collapse on either side of him.

“Hey?” he gets out.

France grabs his good arm. “Stop scaring the shit out of us,” he breathes, his voice breaking. “Stop it.”

Spain lets out a shudder, but neither he nor France cries.

Prussia can’t look at them.

* * *

 

 _9 de mayo de 2015_  

“He’s asleep,” France mumbles.

Spain rubs his face. “That was fast.”

They sit there for a few moments.

“He almost died again, Antonio,” France chokes out. He has circles under his eyes, his hair is everywhere, and he’s wearing ratty clothing.

Spain doesn’t respond, knowing he looks equally as shitty.

It’s not like them, but they haven’t been themselves since this started.

Spain frowns. The emotions he’s been bottling up are threatening to burst, so he attempts to vocalize them in the idiotic hope they’ll go away if he does.

“Francis, we may have to say goodbye sooner than we thought we would.”

France is in denial. “No.”

He’s sad. Spain can tell he’s really sad, but somehow despite all of that he’s remaining _calm._

He, on the other hand, is snapping. He’s angry at France’s depression, angry that Prussia is this broken right now, angry at his own goddamn self.

He knows he needs to remain cheerful, yet the words he wants to tell himself somehow spill out. “Stop running away and face—”

“Hey,” England interrupts. He’s still wearing that dodgy shirt they found in the locker room but somehow looks the most put together out of the three of them.

France deflates. Spain releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Staring at him isn’t going to help,” England mumbles, closing the door behind him.

“He could dissolve in his sleep if we don’t,” France whispers.

Spain realizes he’s shaking. The thought of that happening unnerves him.

_I can’t let Arthur or Francis know how unsettled I am._

They’re not even paying attention to him, though. Just like everyone else.

England frowns. “Francis, you look like shite.”

“Thanks.”

“What I mean is, stop being obsessive over him and take a nap.” He tenderly places his hand on France’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Spain tastes bile.

_I’m still here._

_You two are ignoring me. If Gilbert were awake, he wouldn’t. Even Lovino is being distant right now. Gilbert has never been like that._

_No, he has; many times. Now you’re just romanticizing him._

_No, I’m not. I’m—_

England pulls France into a hug. “Francis, he still has four years left,” he murmurs after France’s eyes start tearing up.

He presses his face into England’s shoulder. “I know but—”

England rubs his back as Spain stands there, frozen, bottling up his emotions.

His jealousy.

The depression Romano had the _fucking gall_ to suggest he had.

The bitterness of Prussia leaving them behind.

The anger.

Gilbert’s leaving them behind.

After everything they’ve been through together. After what they did, what no one else did during the Second World War.

He’s still going to leave.

* * *

 

“Are you finished lunch?” Ilse asks, coming into his room around noon.

“We’ve been done for ten minutes now,” Prussia responds. Spain had to help him eat what little food they got. It was pathetic.

Everyone else has also arrived and is cramming themselves into the tiny room.

“They’re finished?” Prussia hears Halim ask in Arabic.

Ilse mumbles something.

They both come inside.

“I’m really sorry,” Halim mutters after a bit, not making eye contact. “I know the past twenty-four hours have been…hectic.

“The Nation Army is still…it’s still a thing. But we’re going to rethink our plan for it—so no more injections. No more lies. We’re also going to take a break for a couple of days while everyone recuperates. And I think you all know by now that on Monday, you’ll be allowed to go horseback riding.

“There are only some small leads on where Kazimir is, too. So I’m sorry, I’m not sure how much longer this program will be lasting. A military treaty has been drafted and signed within the last twenty-four hours between all of your countries. What happened yesterday shouldn’t occur again.”

“Where’s Robert?” Prussia croaks out, seeing America stiffen out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know, and I don’t really care,” Halim mutters.

“But he saved us.”

“Robert had an unidentified weapon filled with poison bullets,” Ilse spits out. “And none of the guns registered for security have them. So we don’t know how he got it, but no one really gives a fuck since he protected us! God, security here is so dodgy!”

“It’ll be okay,” Halim murmurs.

Ilse deflates. “I really hope so, Halim.”

* * *

 

Bavaria and Saxony are both in Prussia’s dream.

They’re trying to talk to him.

He ignores them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did half-assed google searches and couldn’t really find anything on Swiss bases, and then found I don’t care that much. One exists in my fic okay
> 
> Also, I know for a fact the Russian foreign minister speaks English. I couldn’t find whether or not the Chinese one does. Considering he spent a while in the US working with Georgetown University, I’m going to assume he speaks English.


	17. Vacation

_2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _08_ _일_  

Okay, he’s not actively keeping count, but he just did ten burpees while Japan only did four. He’s not being scolded either since their head trainer left ten minutes ago, which is aggravating.

South Korea grits his teeth. They’re in a school gym—the main hub for their training. It was abandoned before they took it over, and it smells. He isn’t exactly sure like what. Canada once said mold, but it’s not just that.

He catches his breath. The burpees are the last of the aerobic shit they have. Next, they’re supposed to do weight training, then shooting practice out on the front lawn, then lunch, then review military terms? The people here don’t exactly know what they’re doing, so the daily schedule is always dodgy.

It makes South Korea feel _really_ confident. Like, yeah, he’s totally ready to storm into some compound and take down Kazimir and his Nations. Totally. He’s not nervous at all.

Not super anxious at all!

Japan is crouched on the floor.

“You didn’t even do all ten burpees,” South Korea sneers.

He glances at him and looks so miserable that South Korea backtracks. “Alfred’s going to be okay, you know. Stop worrying about it.”

“I’m worrying about it.”

“Hey,” Canada awkwardly interjects, walking over. These past two weeks their interactions have been nothing but uncomfortable, despite efforts on both of their parts.

The most bonding they’ve done was watching that stupid polar bear documentary together.

Canada fidgets. “Shouldn’t we, um, start weight training now?”

“Go for it,” Japan mumbles.

Canada looks pissed for a split second. “Well, I’m going to start. I need more training than you two anyway.”

They’ve had this weird argument before. “Matt,” South Korea starts. “You’re really not that—”

He walks away.

South Korea sighs and rubs his face as Japan fidgets.

He wants to say that the two of them have gotten closer since their argument, but that would be false. That would be utterly false. They’re trying to get along, though.

Kind of.

He’s still a little pissed Japan didn’t do all of the burpees.

He wants to say that the two of them have been closer since their argument, but that would be false. That would be utterly false. They’re trying to get along, though.

Kind of.

He’s still slightly pissed Japan didn’t do all of the burpees.

“So, how about Kha Loung and Mei, right?” South Korea gets out, trying to fill the silence. Their new relationship has been spinning around in his mind ever since he’s heard about it.

It’s bothering him.

_“There are other people besides Yao who like you and have for years, but you’ve had your head so far stuck up your ass you haven’t noticed.”_

_So was that a lie? No, Kiku wasn’t even referring to him in the first place. Why did I even want it to be him? What the hell? I’m avoiding him anyway. Of course he wouldn’t—_

“What about them?” Japan asks.

“The fact that they’re ‘going out’ now, I guess. I dunno. Do you think we’ll hear them have sex at all?”

“Kha Loung gets embarrassed when she touches him,” Japan deadpans. “So I doubt that.”

South Korea fidgets. “Point taken.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really seen them cuddle either. Mei doesn’t seem too keen on initiating anything.”

“But she kissed him.”

“I guess.”

Canada is now angrily curling a 10-kilogram dumbbell.

“Have you texted anyone at all?” Japan mumbles after a bit, throwing South Korea for a loop.

He blinks. “No?”

“Oh. Well, Lien and I chatted briefly, so maybe you should send her a message too.”

South Korea shifts. “I don’t know; isn’t that shit being monitored?”

“Yeah, but after Feliciano texted me…I don’t know; it was nice. And it’s been a good stress relief talking to people on the outside of all of this too.”

Any response South Korea has is cut off by their head trainer sprinting into the gym.

“We’re leaving,” he blurts out in French.

Canada drops his weights. “Why?”

“There’s been an incident.”

The color drains from his face. “A what?”

“An incident.”

South Korea suddenly feels nauseous. “What kind of incident?”

“Prussia, China, America, and Russia are being airlifted to a hospital. Prussia’s the one in dire medical condition. The other three need blood transfusions to flush something out of their system. That’s all I’ve been told.”

Canada’s voice is higher pitched than normal. “Flush what out of their system?”

“I told you I don’t—”

“The Secretary of State and the Chinese and Russian Foreign Ministers were almost killed too,” another woman blurts out.

“What happened!?” Japan snaps, his presence expanding.

“I told you, I don’t know!”

His eyes are turning red. “But how were those people almost killed!?”

“We don’t—”

“Why—”

“Are we going to the hospital?” South Korea interrupts, feeling lightheaded.

“No, not until—the hospital is three hours away, so you’ll wait at the villa until we know what’s going on.”

They’re ushered out of the room before they can argue.

* * *

 

The car ride back is not fun.

When they arrive, they’re practically kicked out and told to entertain themselves until someone fetches them.

Japan’s a mess.

“Why would he need a blood transfusion?” he nearly spits out, pacing through the living room.

Canada is pale. “Maybe because of some poison bullets?”

That comment doesn’t make him look any better.

“Want to watch a documentary?” Canada blurts out when he starts hyperventilating. He doesn’t even give him time to respond before he sprints out of the room.

South Korea, meanwhile, runs to the kitchen to grab Japan’s phone.

“Kiku?” Italy asks from the other line when he finally gets the stupid thing unlocked. The passcode was America’s birthday.

“Hold on a second,” South Korea blurts out, running to the living room. Canada is now back with his laptop, but South Korea ignores him and shoves Japan his phone instead.

He’s frazzled. “Why—” He cuts off after hearing Italy’s voice; then bites his lip and walks out of the room.

Canada pushes his laptop to the side and lets out a breath. “Good thinking.”

South Korea feels like he’s going to vomit.

“Do you still want to watch the documentary?” Canada asks slowly. The screen is paused on the polar bears playing in the snow.

“Yes,” he rushes out.

* * *

 

It’s 7 PM, and South Korea is angrily chewing on an ice cube.

They haven’t received any updates at all, and they’re still the only ones at the house. God knows where everyone else is.

Japan, though, is no longer freaking out, which is nice. After talking to Italy and Germany for two hours, he calmed down.

South Korea’s sighs and swallows the pieces of his ice cube. He knows he should get something to eat soon, but his appetite is next to nothing.

Canada throws his phone at the wall.

“Um,” South Korea eloquently says as Japan looks up from the book he’s reading.

“I hate—” Canada rubs his face. “It’s nothing. Wales was just texting me.”

Japan goes back to his book as South Korea shoots him a sympathetic glance. “What was he saying?”

“That we’re the reason all of this is happening in the first place, so we have no right to complain.”

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _09_ _일_

It’s 1 AM, and they’re all still in the living room. South Korea knows he won’t be going to bed tonight.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Japan eventually whispers.

South Korea blinks. “Alfred?”

“…”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

* * *

 

America’s not okay.

He makes eye contact with Japan and immediately breaks down.

It’s around 9:00 AM. They arrived at the hospital five minutes ago.

“When Gilbert wakes up, let him know he’ll be getting his pain meds at 10 AM,” his Nation Advisor says, hovering at the door. She’s the one who led them to the room. “The last time he had any was three hours ago.”

South Korea’s eyes slide to him after she leaves.

For once, he holds back his tears.

* * *

 

Everyone else arrives around noon.

That’s also when Prussia is wheeled out for an evaluation, though, so now they’re all trapped inside with nothing to do.

South Korea’s restless.

He’s standing next to Japan, who’s acting pissy. They’re both near Taiwan, Hong Kong, Russia, and China, but Japan is staring at America, who’s joking around with Canada, England, and France on the other side of the room. Spain is near them, playing on his phone.

Okay, Japan is outright glaring now.

“Kiku,” China says softly.

“What?” he mutters.

“You look like you’re about to commit homicide.”

He instantly flushes and glances away.

China frowns. “He’s allowed to have other friends, you know.”

“He’s ignoring me.”

“He was just sobbing in your arms,” Russia grumbles.

South Korea frowns. “Maybe he wants to give you some space?”

Japan sneers, and South Korea sighs, knowing that Hong Kong’s staring at him.

He doesn’t have the stomach to look in his or Taiwan’s direction, though.

* * *

 

Considering America eats the shitty lunch they’re provided with Japan—as well as him, South Korea kind of weirdly hovered—he expects the worst to be over, at least. Sure, there’s going to be a recovery period. Sure, the Nation Army thing is still going on. But at least for today, the worst is over.

But then it’s time to go, and Prussia has to remain at the hospital, and the rest of them have to squeeze themselves into three small cars, and what does America do? He decides to pick the sedan with France, Canada, and England.

South Korea’s pretty sure Japan is in shock when the car drives away.

Two more then pull up. South Korea steers clear of the one with Hong Kong, but he almost wishes he did go with him. Because instead, he ends up crammed in the back of a small sedan that has a divider between them and the driver’s seat with Russia, China, and Japan.

South Korea and Russia are on the outside since they’re the tallest, leaving China and Japan awkwardly squeezing into the middle.

Their car pulls away in complete silence, Japan still seeming utterly flabbergasted.

“Kiku,” China says awkwardly. He fails to come up with anything else.

“Alfred has the observational skills of a three-year-old,” Russia supplies. “He was probably so caught up with England he didn’t notice you.”

Japan doesn’t respond.

* * *

 

The three hours in the car are utterly painful, especially when Japan leans into him to get away from Russia and China being extra sappy.

They make it back around 7 PM.

“Did the other car arrive yet?” China asks when they get into the kitchen. Taiwan and Hong Kong are there while Spain is in the living room.

Taiwan shakes her head.

“But Kha Loung and I were just trying to figure out dinner,” she then says when Japan’s shoulder’s slump. South Korea expects her to touch or drape herself over Hong Kong, but that doesn’t happen. “After that lunch today, I’m sick of Western food.”

_Not all couples are touchy-feely. Stop over-analyzing._

He glances at Hong Kong.

_Stop._

China frowns. “Do we even have the correct groceries for something non-Western?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Hong Kong mutters. “We barely have any food as it is right now, so.”

“Well, first we have to figure out what we’re even making.”

The thought seems to overwhelm Taiwan. “I don’t know. Not pasta. Not bread. Shit, I want fish. I feel like I haven’t eaten seafood in decades.”

Russia awkwardly hovers. “I should probably leave.”

She looks at him. “Ew, yeah, you’re white. Get out of the kitchen.”

He holds up his hands and walks to the living room where Spain is watching TV.

South Korea studies the table. “Maybe we can ask someone to get groceries?”

“The stores around here probably won’t have anything,” Japan grumbles.

China sighs, only pausing when they all hear a car pull up. Taiwan then sprints to the door, Hong Kong half-heartedly chasing after her, as Japan becomes rigid.

“Kiku, just go talk to him,” China hisses once they’re gone.

“I don’t need you giving me relationship advice,” he spits.

“Clearly, you do.”

South Korea has no idea what to do with himself.

“I’m sure he’s not actively avoiding you. Has he ever done that before?”

Japan doesn’t respond.

“The kid’s in love with you.”

His face flushes. “Stop.”

South Korea starts to edge away.

“You have the opportunity right now to communicate with him, so don’t waste it. I can’t even fucking breathe in Ivan’s direction half the time because of his officials; you two don’t know how lucky—”

Russia edges into the room before he can finish his thought. “…You okay?”

China mutters something indistinguishable.

Maybe it’s the crushing atmosphere, but South Korea suddenly has a moment of impulsion and grabs Japan’s arm. Before Japan can question him, he drags him to the front door, where they come face to face with America, England, Canada, and France.

South Korea drops Japan’s arm just as France points behind himself. There are exhaustion lines etched into his face. “Taiwan and Hong Kong are arguing with the program director if you’re wondering where they went.”

He glances in their direction, then quickly looks away.

England yawns. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Change your shirt while you’re at it,” Canada mutters.

“Funny. I was quite enjoying it.”

“It’s all crusty…”

America snickers. “Remember when you bought that Beatles t-shirt and didn’t wash it for six months to preserve the ‘memory?’”

“I’m taking a shower!” England says as a response. He then shoves past everyone, only pausing when he makes eye contact with Japan. He frowns. Japan quickly looks away.

“Let’s go to the living room,” Canada suggests quietly to France.

South Korea has no idea what to do with himself when it’s just the three of them.

“Why’s the program director outside?” is what he ends up blurting out.

America bites his lip. “He followed us here to give me my sleeping medication.”

_Backtrack._

“He couldn’t have given it to you beforehand?”

“I don’t know,” America mutters. “He also said something about wanting to make sure we all got settled in okay? I wasn’t really paying attention; Arthur was trying to distract me because he knows how mentally fucked up I am right now.”

South Korea opens his mouth; then closes it.

America fidgets. “Kiku, we can sleep in separate rooms tonight if you want.”

“Why would I want to do that?” he hisses.

“So you can get a full night’s rest? God knows you won’t with me.”

“I don’t—”

“Francis offered to switch rooms, so I can stay with Arthur.”

“So you’re saying you’d rather be with him?”

America’s eyebrows pinch together. “No? You just—you look exhausted, Honey.” South Korea has never heard him use a term of endearment before, and it’s really weird, and he’s ready to leave now. “I want you to get some sleep…”

“But I want to stay with you,” Japan gets out.

“…Why?” America avoids eye contact. “I’m just going to keep you up. I’m just a monster who leeches off of you to stay emotionally stable.”

“You’re not a monster! You’re not a leech! Shut up!”

“I lost control! I murdered—” America’s voice breaks. “Fuck, all I ever do is make you feel like shit.”

“That’s not true,” Japan hisses.

America squirms.

“I love you,” he says painfully. “God, you don’t know how much I do.”

“I don’t get why.”

“Alfred, stop being a self-deprecating piece of shit,” South Korea interjects, tired of this, feeling his head spin.

He walks outside to see what the fuck Hong Kong and Taiwan are doing just as they embrace.

Moving causes his head to spin even more, though, and it only gets worse when Hong Kong looks at him.

 _He was crying. He was hysterical. Aida was shushing him as she led him to the empty mat, but it wasn’t working. Instead, more tears poured out of his eyes and snot dripped from his nose, making him look absolutely_ _pathetic._

Hong Kong asks him something.

_“There are other people besides Yao who like you and have for years, but you’ve had your head so far stuck up your ass you haven’t noticed.”_

_Hong Kong shrieked, and Korea sneered at him._

_Shit._

“Yong-Soo?”

_“Mei and Kha Loung are a couple now!”_

_“Both the Americans and Russians are…adamant about retrieving their Nation property.”_

Suddenly all he can see is a picture of that damned niece.

“Yong-Soo?”

Hong Kong is standing over him.

South Korea retches.

“What the fuck!?”

“Yong-Soo, shit, are you okay?!” Taiwan asks.

Halim appears frazzled. “I have water bottles in my car,” he blurts out in Arabic. “Do you need one?”

America and Japan run next to him.

“I’m fine,” South Korea chokes out, not fine. “I’m fine,” he repeats. He’s shaking. Hong Kong’s presence is bothering him. 

“Are you A-Okay?” America deadpans.

“Shut up.” He’s wheezing, but he forces himself to stand.

He then bolts back inside just as Hong Kong says something.

* * *

 

He spends a majority of the night locked in his room, not even coming out for dinner, which ends up being pasta anyway, so.

Canada tells him later that Halim is going to get them groceries so they can have some Chinese food or whatever tomorrow, but it barely makes him feel better.

He steals some of Prussia’s meds that night when everyone else is in their rooms.

He just wants to sleep into oblivion.

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _10_ _일_  

Someone is violently shaking him.

South Korea’s head feels foggy, and he can’t muster the energy to open his eyes.

Someone dumps water on him.

“What the fuck?” he groans.

“Yong-Soo, it’s 5 PM.”

The haziness clears out of his eyes, and he sees China, Russia, Taiwan, and Hong Kong staring at him. He can feel more Nations hovering in the hallway.

He blinks, wiping the water off his face. “What?”

China frowns. “It’s 5 PM. We couldn’t get you to wake up.”

“How is it 5 PM?” South Korea chokes out. He went to bed at 1—

His mouth tastes vile. “I took some of Prussia’s sleeping medication.”

“That wasn’t Prussia’s,” America mumbles, stepping into the room. “That was the new shit Halim gave me.”

_Fuck._

“How much did you take? Because I took a normal dosage and woke up at a humane hour.”

“I don’t know, four pills?”

“ _Four?_ ”

China rubs his face. “We didn’t know what was wrong when you wouldn’t respond to us.”

South Korea chews his lip, refusing to make eye contact. “Sorry.”

China sighs.

Everyone starts to clear out while he stays in his bed, unmoving.

“Prussia is back,” Taiwan murmurs, staying behind with Hong Kong. “He’s in a wheelchair. Technically he can stand up, but he’s not supposed to move his shoulder at all.”

South Korea grunts.

“And Ilse and Halim bought us some groceries, so we’re going to make some Chinese dishes since Yao has a bunch in mind.”

“…”

“And tomorrow we’re going horseback riding! We’re leaving at 10 AM, so try to get up at a normal hour.”

“…”

“Fuck, I’m going. Kha Loung, talk to him.”

_No, no, no._

South Korea gives her a panicked look. “Wait, you don’t have to—”

Taiwan leaves.

“What’s going on?” Hong Kong asks, his voice nearly cracking. “Like, you looked at me last night, vomited, and then decided to _overdose_.”

South Korea has no idea how to respond. He avoids eye contact.

“This has been going on ever since your stupid argument with Kiku,” Hong Kong continues, rambling. “You’ve been avoiding me. And I know we were never too close to begin with b-but—the fuck did you talk about that night? What happened during the war? Us at the palace!?”

“I…” South Korea trails off when he sees how broken he looks.

“Is that what you’re suddenly worked up over?”

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yong-Soo.” Hong Kong sounds in disbelief. “What, do I _remind_ you of when—”

“I sneered at you.”

“Excuse me?”

South Korea opens his eyes, realizing he’s near tears. “I _sneered at you_. You were begging for help, and I—I—”

“You mean _that first day_? You had been tortured for multiple years at that point. Y-Yong-Soo, it was to be expected. Especially with…the—the way I was acting.”

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity.

“What do you want me to do?” Hong Kong eventually whispers.

South Korea picks at his sheets. “I don’t know.”

There’s a long stretch of silence.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually chokes out. “I’ve…been able to suppress these memories for years. I—I don’t know why now of all times they’re resurfacing and turning me into this guilty mes—”

Hong Kong hugs him.

“I just want things to go back to normal with you,” he gets out.

South Korea blindly hugs him back, startled when he leans even further into him.

They stay like that for a while.

“Does Mei get this much love, or am I truly special?” South Korea eventually manages to say.

Hong Kong’s face is bright pink. “Shut up.”

“I never knew you were one to cuddle.”

He shoves him away, his cheeks flushing even more.

Despite everything, South Korea finds himself laughing. It makes Hong Kong do that smile he likes.

“Go brush your teeth; your breath stinks,” he mumbles when South Korea quiets down.

South Korea’s emotions are a jumbled mess. “Anything for you, my love.”

“And help us cook dinner.”

“Ew.”

Hong Kong rolls his eyes and stands up.

“Kha Loung,” South Korea mumbles when he’s at the door.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Sorry you had to do this.”

“Stop sounding like Alfred. Listening to him and Kiku is giving me a headache.”

South Korea fidgets

“We’re friends, alright? Stop avoiding me.” Hong Kong looks away. “…Please.”

South Korea feels something bubble in his chest. “I won’t.”

“That better be a promise…”

* * *

 

The kitchen is a mess.

South Korea stumbles into it, his head still hazy. He took a shower, but it barely did anything to wake him up.

China, Japan, Taiwan, and Hong Kong are all hovering by the counters while America and Russia are at the kitchen table. Everyone else is in the family room. From where he is, South Korea can just make out where Prussia’s sitting in his wheelchair.

“Good, you’re here!” Taiwan exclaims.

“Woo,” South Korea says mockingly. He makes eye contact with Hong Kong, who smiles.

Taiwan says something.

South Korea jerks his head. “Sorry?”

“Help.”

“With what? There’s barely enough room for you four as it is.”

Japan walks over and puts some cabbage, a cutting board, and a knife on the kitchen table. “Cut that.”

South Korea dully stands over it as Russia and America watch.

“Are you okay now?” America mumbles.

Everything is still hazy. “Kind of.”

“You shouldn’t bottle everything up.”

“Real rich coming from you.”

America looks offended. “I’ve been a fucking mess lately. I haven’t bottled anything.”

“He’s right,” Russia mutters.

South Korea has no come back except, “Shut up.”

“You can always talk to me, Yong-Soo,” America mumbles.

“I know…”

It doesn’t matter though. He’s fine now.

Taiwan nudges Hong Kong.

South Korea clenches his jaw and stares at the knife as they laugh, suddenly thinking of the stupid niece he’ll have to kill.

He’s _fine now._

* * *

 

The weather is pleasant, so they eat dinner outside on the patio.

The food’s spread out on shitty plastic tables, and everyone’s milling around, talking to each other casually, having fun.

South Korea is sitting alone on the lawn.

He knows he’s isolating himself, but it feels better knowing that he’s the one doing it rather than the others, or something.

It’s stupid. He’s aware.

Hong Kong looked at him once, but ever since then, he’s been preoccupied with Taiwan. South Korea knows he should just stand up and go talk to them, but…

He’s chewing on an ice cube when China approaches him.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” South Korea dully responds.

“You can join everyone else, you know.”

“Yeah.”

China sighs and sits next to him.

“You scared me today,” he eventually murmurs.

South Korea forces out a laugh. “Sorry about that.”

“…If there’s anything bothering you, you can talk to me.”

South Korea squirms. “I’m fine.”

China gives him a pointed look until he stares at his hands. “I think I just want to go home.”

“We all do.”

He fidgets. “I mean, I do like being with everyone, but I’m also getting sick of them.”

“Understandable.”

South Korea feels annoyed. “What’s there to understand _for you_? You—You have no idea what it’s like to constantly third-wheel everyone here!” He’s getting frazzled. “God, I wasted so much time being in love with you that—fuck, I don’t know.”

China touches his arm. “Yong-Soo, just because you aren’t in a relationship doesn’t mean no one loves you.”

“…”

“I love you.”

“Thanks,” South Korea says dully. He does everything in his power not to look in Hong Kong and Taiwan’s direction. “Somehow it seems less genuine than when you were moaning that into Ivan’s ear as you two fucked in the hallway.”

China looks exasperated. “You really are an annoying little brother.”

“…”

“And we weren’t fucking.”

“You were about to suck his dick.”

China’s face turns bright red, and South Korea laughs, loving it whenever he can break his emotional barriers.

China eventually smiles. “Please talk to me if you feel bad enough to overdose on sleeping medication again, okay?”

South Korea rubs his face, his mood sobering up. “I’ll do that when you stop faking all of your moods.”

“I’m not—”

“Hiding they were injecting shit into you for two weeks? That counts. You and Ivan also wake up _really_ early compared to everyone else. Can’t sleep?”

China sighs.

“How do you feel you almost murdered some government officials?”

“Yong-Soo…”

He can’t stop. “And you always clench up whenever Kazimir’s name is men—”

“Enough.”

“Then don’t accuse me of bottling everything up when you’re doing the exact same fucking thing.”

“I’m not the one who overdosed on sleeping medication.”

South Korea crunches down on another ice cube. “Yeah. You win there.”

* * *

 

He’s brushing his teeth at 1 AM when Hong Kong comes into the bathroom.

South Korea spits out his toothpaste. After dinner, they played chess for a bit, and then Taiwan forced them all to play some video games together, so his chest is feeling a little lighter.

“Need anything?”

“Just making sure you don’t overdose on drugs again,” Hong Kong mutters.

“You care about me! I’m touched!”

He frowns.

South Korea stops joking around. “Sorry, I feel better tonight. I’m not going to take anything.”

They stand there.

“We should go to bed,” he then suggests somewhat awkwardly. “Make sure you don’t sleepwalk tonight.”

Hong Kong rubs his face. “I only do that when I’m anxious.”

“Then don’t be.”

He chews his lip.

“You have Mei,” South Korea forces out. “So like, nudge her, and she’ll help you calm down.”

Hong Kong blushes. “We’re not sleeping in the same bed.”

“But aren’t you—”

“The room just has two singles, so we’d have to shove them together.”

“Ah.”

Hong Kong frowns. “Also, she…I don’t think she’d ever want to do that with me.”

South Korea is confused. “Sleeping in the same bed?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t feel like she actually…likes me?”

“Yes she does?”

Hong Kong tears at his hair. “No, wrong wording.”

“Then what?”

“I feel like she likes me more as a brother.”

“Kha Loung—”

“AlsoIthinkshe’sgay.”

He says it so quickly it takes South Korea a moment to process. “Wait, what?”

“It’s been bothering me for a while. Didn’t you see how she reacted when Hungary got naked? And she’s always been obsessed with girls. I think she’s gay. I’m pretty damn sure she’s just humoring me.”

“Whoa, Kha Loung, breathe.”

“This has been bothering me ever since we kissed. We barely even touch each other. And it’s definitely not like the thing Alfred and Kiku have going on. They still cuddle and sleep in the same bed and—”

South Korea’s head is spinning. “Okay, well, I definitely think she likes you.”

“Yeah, I _know_ that. But I don’t think she’s in love with me like I am with her.”

“But she kissed you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” 

South Korea fidgets. “Maybe you’re just being insecure?” He has no idea why Hong Kong is even telling him this.

“I live with her, Yong-Soo. I’ve lived with her for multiple years now. Fuck, I know she’s gay. I know, and yet—I think Yao talked her into this? I swear the bastard pities me because of what happened with England, and I literally think he talked her into kissing me so we would become a fucking quote on quote _thing_.” He’s nearly hyperventilating now. “And I’m afraid I fucked up everything with this. Like, I don’t want to lose her. I really like Mei. I’ll always really like her, and I don’t want our friendship to suffer just because—”

“Listen, I’m still friends with Yao, so don’t worry about that,” South Korea interrupts.

“B-But—”

He pulls him into a hug.

Hong Kong lets out a shudder, and they stand there for a bit.

“I’m afraid to go back to my room,” Hong Kong eventually mutters.

South Korea shakes his head, weirdly aware of both of their heartbeats. “Now you’re being stupid.”

“But what if I sleepwalk and end up on top of her again!”

“Well…”

They’re holding their positions.

“Why don’t you try discussing this with her?” South Korea asks.

Hong Kong snorts, pulling away.

“It’s not an insane idea.”

Hong Kong chews his lip. “What the fuck am I supposed to say, though? ‘Hey, Mei, do you really like me, or are you a lesbian?’”

South Korea finds himself laughing. It causes Hong Kong’s look of panic to dissipate.

“Just…worry about it tomorrow?” South Korea suggests, trying to act nonchalant. “Or not even tomorrow. Tomorrow’s supposed to be fun.”

Hong Kong fidgets. “Fine.”

Neither of them moves.

“If you’re that afraid to sleep in the same room as her, then why not try the couch?” South Korea suggests.

“Ew.”

“Then I don’t know how to help you.”

“I could sleep in your room?”

South Korea blinks just as Hong Kong freezes.

“Uh, we’d have to share a bed,” he ends up getting out.

Hong Kong forces out a laugh. “Right. Yeah. Okay, I’m—I’m going back to my room now.”

South Korea walks back to his own, his head spinning.

The lights are still on when he enters.

“That took you an awfully long time to brush your teeth,” Canada mumbles, looking up from his laptop.

“I was talking to Kha Loung.”

“Ah. Well, I was going to wake up at 8:30 tomorrow if that’s okay.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t take any sleeping meds, right?”

“No.”

“Good.”

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _11_ _일_

South Korea barely sleeps that night.

He gives up trying around 6 AM and heads to the kitchen, getting confused when he sees Prussia also there, no wheelchair in sight.

“Um,” South Korea eloquently states.

“Yeah,” Prussia grunts, “I know.” He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that’s been warped so it can fit over his shoulder, which is in a sling, completely wrapped up. His thumb is also still bandaged.

“Should you really be walking around?”

“No, but what was I going to do, wake Antonio because I was up at this hour?”

“Where’s your wheelchair?”

“In the bedroom,” Prussia mutters. He’s standing by the counter, making coffee. “Want some?”

South Korea rubs his eyes. “Sure.”

They grab some mugs and sit down at the kitchen table together.

“Okay, I need to ask your opinion on something,” South Korea mutters into his mug after a bit, his mind replaying Hong Kong’s conversation over and over in his head.

“Shoot.”

“Do you think Mei is gay?”

Prussia looks at him. “Excuse me?”

They stare at each other.

“I…saw her kiss Hong Kong. She initiated it,” he eventually says.

South Korea fidgets. “Kha Loung thinks she’s gay.”

“Oh.” Prussia pauses. “…Well, I guess I don’t know a whole lot about her.”

“But don’t you have, like, a gaydar or something?”

Prussia almost chokes on his coffee.

South Korea gets impatient when he starts laughing. “Come on, you’re gay, right?”

“Bisexual.”

“Same difference.”

“Not really. What the fuck are you?”

“I—”

South Korea has no idea.

“Not straight?” he eventually gets out.

“Well, that’s obvious.” Prussia pauses for a moment and thinks. “I mean,” he eventually says, “it could make sense. She got all blushy when Liz undressed. And she’s been obsessed with those female Nations. And now that I think about it, she never really showed interest in Hong Kong until she kissed him. It was very sudden.”

“Kha Loung thinks Yao pushed her to do it,” South Korea mumbles.

“Huh…” Prussia takes a sip of his coffee. “Well, I don’t want to slap labels onto people just by looking at stereotypes, so I think the best thing would be just to, you know, ask her.”

South Korea fidgets.

“Why do you care?”

“Kha Loung was just really stressed about it last night…”

* * *

 

Everyone is in a fairly good mood as they wake up. There’s an uncomfortable instance where France and Spain yell at Prussia for being out of his wheelchair, but other than that, everything is okay.

…Kind of.

Hong Kong is blatantly avoiding Taiwan.

“Do you know what’s up with Kha Loung?” Taiwan asks, approaching South Korea as they’re getting ready to leave.

He squirms. “Uh.”

“’Cause he was fine all day yesterday after you two made up.”

_He thinks you’re being forced into a relationship with him and that you’re a lesbian._

“I don’t…know.”

Taiwan narrows her eyes. “You’re shit at lying. I hope you know that.”

They’re in the dining room, waiting for their transportation to arrive.

South Korea fidgets. “Okay, do—do you like him?”

“Yes?”

“But, like, like _like_ him?”

Taiwan scrunches up her eyebrows. “What are we, five? Yes.”

“Well, he’s afraid he’s forcing you into this relationship thing you two are pursuing and that you don’t feel anything.”

Taiwan frowns. “Do I…come across that way?”

“Kind of?”

She purses her lips. “But I don’t …” She frowns. “I like Kha Loung. I know I do.”

“Yeah, but are you romantically attracted to him?”

“I kissed him,” Taiwan mumbles. “So that means something…right?”

South Korea fidgets. “But did you feel anything when you did that?”

“It was quick. Are you supposed to feel something?”

“I don’t know—like, butterflies in your stomach? Tightness in your chest?”

“No, I just…kissed him. It was like giving someone a handshake or something.” Taiwan pauses. “I’ve known for a while that he likes me, so this just seemed like the…natural progression of things? Especially since he was upset at the time.”

“But do you _want_ it to be that way?”

“Christ, I don’t know! Why are you harping me about this?”

South Korea feels annoyed. “You’re the one who approached me about him!”

Taiwan frowns. “I don’t know, okay? Let me mull this over.”

There’s a pause.

“What was Kha Loung upset about when you kissed him?” South Korea finds himself asking.

“You.”

He blinks.

Taiwan scrunches up her eyebrows. “That’s why I’m confused. Why did he come to you about this? You’ve been ignoring him for the past two weeks.”

South Korea looks away, his stomach feeling weird. “…We made up.”

She scrutinizes him but doesn’t say anything else.

* * *

 

Ilse and Halim pull up in a fucking shuttle bus.

“It’s big enough to fit your wheelchair,” Ilse excitedly explains to Prussia after being asked about it.

He looks tired. “I really don’t need it.”

“Yes you do.”

“What about horseback riding supplies?” Spain asks Halim.

“The barn we’re taking you to has whatever you’ll need. Don’t worry!” he responds in his usual happy English. It’s clear he’s actively avoiding America, Russia, and China, though.

Around 10:30 AM, they climb onto the bus. The weather is kind of dreary; it’s 22 degrees outside and misty. But it’s definitely better than the heat they were dealing with at the beginning.

South Korea takes a seat near the front, next to the window. He’s not expecting anyone to sit with him, so when Hong Kong does, he’s confused.

“Wait, what about Mei?”

“I can’t,” Hong Kong hisses. 

“Come on, dude.”

“I know, but—”

Taiwan walks onto the bus, glancing at them. She then sighs and takes a seat next to Canada.

“You ready for this!?” Halim cheers when they’re all inside.

He gets grunts in response. It doesn’t deter him. “Then let’s go!”

The barn is an hour away, so the bus ride shouldn’t be too bad.

South Korea takes out his phone, feeling Hong Kong watch him.

“Mei is staring at us,” he eventually hisses.

“Well, I don’t blame her,” South Korea mumbles back. “You know, if you were a normal person and just talked—”

“Like you’re any better,” Hong Kong spits.

“This has nothing to do with me right now.”

“You two okay?” China asks. He and Russia are in the seat across from them.

“We’re fine,” Hong Kong rushes out, scooting closer to South Korea.

“Alright…”

South Korea stares at their legs, which are now pressed together; then rips his eyes away. He plugs in his headphones and hands one earbud to Hong Kong. “Here. Listen with me.”

Hong Kong cautiously takes it. “Your music taste better not be like Alfred’s.”

“I’m actually offended by that statement.”

“Hey,” America says from behind them, sounding fake insulted. South Korea turns around. He and Japan are also sharing earbuds, looking really coupley.

South Korea rolls his eyes, but now his stomach is churning.

“You gonna play a song or what?” Hong Kong mumbles.

“O-Oh. Yeah. Here.”

_Friends share earbuds. Stop overthinking this._

* * *

 

It’s been so long since South Korea’s been around horses that he forgot how offensive their shit could smell.

Prussia seems weirdly enthused about it.

“This is bringing back memories!” he says once his wheelchair is lowered to the ground.

America’s also as enthusiastic as Prussia. “Man, I haven’t been riding in more than a month. This is great.”

“Don’t you mostly do Western now?” Japan asks.

“Yeah. But I still know how to ride English.”

Taiwan looks like she’s about to explode from excitement. “What’s the difference!?”

America smiles. “The saddle and the way you ride.”

They continue to chat idly as Halim and Ilse leave to find their hired trainer.

South Korea elbows Hong Kong when they’re gone. “Mei’s been looking forward to this for ages, and you’re not going to say anything to her at all?” Though he’s…happy Hong Kong has been sticking by his side, he still feels guilty.

“Thanks. You don’t need to make me feel like shit.”

“I’m not trying to—fuck, you were literally fine with her yesterday.”

Hong Kong glares. “Because I wasn’t as nervous about it then! Just after talking to you—I don’t know. I feel like an idiot for pursuing her.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“ _Me_?”

He stops short when Ilse and Halim come into view. Following them is a woman who’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Hi!” she says in English. “Before I ask you questions about your riding experience, let’s get you set up with the appropriate gear, okay? Oh, and by the way, my name is Britt.” She glances at Prussia; then faces the barn. “All of the horses are in their stalls, so the wheelchair should be fine in the aisle. Okay, let’s go!”

South Korea opens his mouth to say something else to Hong Kong, but he walks away and follows Britt at a brisk pace before he can.

_Fine._

They enter the barn, and South Korea is immediately taken aback by how huge and immaculate it is. It’s also empty, so he assumes they’ve somehow booked the place to themselves.

“You do English style here, right?” America asks.

Britt nods. “I assume from your accent that you’re American, right? Have you done Western before?”

“Yeah, it’s what I mostly do now, actually.”

They continue on in the background, Taiwan jumping into the conversation as Russia starts doing his Texan accent. It would make South Korea laugh if he wasn’t so distracted with Hong Kong.

“Kha Loung,” he tries when they’re in the tack room. They’re putting on the tall boots they were fitted for, and Hong Kong is struggling to zip his up.

“What?”

He looks a little pathetic, and South Korea can’t help but snicker. “Do you need any help?” he asks in English since that’s what they’re all speaking.

Hong Kong angrily pulls at his zipper. “No.”

A few moments pass.

He stops. “Yes.”

“Here, I can help,” Taiwan says, popping over. She makes eye contact with South Korea; then looks away.

Hong Kong seems nervous. “Ah, okay. Yeah. Uh.”

“Kha Loung, calm down,” Taiwan mutters in Mandarin, forcing up the zipper. “Just have fun. God knows when we’ll get another opportunity like this.”

“I’m having a blast,” Hong Kong grumbles in Cantonese.

“Fine. Be this way.”

South Korea can feel China staring at them when she leaves.

“Dude,” he eloquently states, feeling bad for her, feeling like he’s somehow the root of this entire stupid thing.

Before Hong Kong can respond, Britt claps her hands. “Alright! I’m having some of my workers prep the horses, so why don’t we go to the ring and wait for them there?”

They shuffle out of the tack room and make their way outside. Hong Kong and South Korea stay near the back.

They get startled when America joins them.

“What’s up with you ignoring Mei?”

South Korea jumps. Hong Kong looks annoyed. “Leave me alone.”

America seems unfazed, and South Korea snorts. “Look, if _he_ can notice what’s going on, then you’re being really childish.”

Hong Kong seems angry. “I really don’t need a lecture from you two of all people. You guys are the least mature out of everyone here.”

Japan suddenly falls back next to them, seeming to have noticed America’s disappearance. Before he can say anything, though, they arrive at the ring.

It’s pretty huge, and there are jumps set up that are at least a meter in height.

“Are we jumping those?” Taiwan asks, seeming dazzled.

Britt snorts. “Well, _you’re_ definitely not. No, I think we’ll all keep it safe today and just stick to cross rails.” She glances around. “Okay, how many years of riding experience do each of you have, and when’s the last time you’ve ridden…”

* * *

 

It takes them just under three hours to get through everyone.

South Korea is sore.

The frustrating thing is, he obviously knows _how_ to ride. He’s just not in shape for it. It’s also weird being so casually dressed. The last time he was on a horse he was armed to the teeth, and now he’s just in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

But he has fun.

More importantly, Taiwan does, and seeing her laugh and grin is nice.

Besides for America, Hong Kong, Canada, and England, since those four have actually ridden for sport in the past few months, the rest of them flounder around in the saddle.

South Korea, really, is just surprised at how good Hong Kong is. He’s aware he blatantly stares at him when he goes around the ring, but…

They’re waiting by the bus now while Ilse and Halim fork over the payment to Britt. Hong Kong and Taiwan are actually sustaining a conversation at the moment, and South Korea knows he should finally feel relieved, but it only makes his stomach churn even more.

_“…you’ve had your head so far stuck up your ass you haven’t—”_

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up—_

“You weren’t bad today,” Japan suddenly says.

South Korea blinks, ripping his attention away from Taiwan and Hong Kong. “You weren’t too bad either.”

Japan gives an awkward smile.

“When’s the last time you were on a horse?”

He shrugs. “End of the…Meiji restoration, I think.”

“Fun.”

“Yeah.”

Well, it’s a start.

Thankfully, Ilse and Halim come back before they can force out any more small talk.

Ilse checks her watch. “So it’s 1:30ish. Do you guys want to go to the nearby town for lunch?”

“Are we allowed?” Prussia asks.

“I don’t see why not. I was thinking we could just drop you guys off and let you do whatever for two hours.”

South Korea stops paying attention as he climbs onto the bus, sitting in the same seat he was previously in.

Hong Kong, meanwhile, sits with Taiwan.

 _Good_ , he thinks.

 _Good_.

He feels like shit.

* * *

 

“Just stay together,” Ilse says when they’re all off the bus. “And if you have any issues, call my cell. Everyone now has the number, right?”

They grunt.

“Okay, good.”

They’re in a public parking lot. It’s drizzling now, but it isn’t too bad. The town’s cute; there are cobblestone streets with a bunch of shops and restaurants, and in the distance some mountains are visible.

It’s picturesque.

South Korea can’t bring himself to care.

Everyone starts breaking off into groups, and it’s predictable: Russia and China; America and Japan; Spain, France, Prussia, England, and Canada. And then there’s Taiwan and Hong Kong, who look like they’re going to just—scamper off alone!

South Korea feels like the unpopular kid left on the sidelines in gym class.

He takes out his cell phone and fidgets. Fuck, even Ilse and Halim are going together. Maybe he should just wait on the bus.

“Are you okay?” England of all people asks.

South Korea nearly jumps. He quickly forces out a laugh. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”

“You’re just like Alfred, you know. So I can see that you’re talking rubbish.”

“Yong-Soo, do you want to get lunch with us?” Taiwan pipes up, Hong Kong awkwardly standing next to her. He glances at South Korea with pleading eyes.

South Korea frowns.

_Not really, thanks._

_I don’t feel like third wheeling._

“You can come too, Arthur,” Taiwan offers. “It, um, looks like they left you behind.”

Somehow France, Spain, Prussia, and Canada have all magically disappeared within the last two minutes.

Hong Kong looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Mei.”

“Yes, that’d be great,” England says immediately.

Hong Kong seems like he’s about to scream.

“Should we just wander until we find something?” he continues.

Taiwan smiles. “Yeah, let’s do that!”

South Korea didn’t even agree to come, but he guesses he has no choice now.

They start walking, and England and Taiwan end up chatting, keeping two paces ahead of South Korea and Hong Kong.

“This is like, the worst thing that could happen to me,” Hong Kong mutters.

South Korea chews his lip. He can feel him staring.

Hong Kong squirms. “Hey—”

“Have you made up with Mei?” he interrupts.

“Kind of?”

“Have you talked about…?

Hong Kong runs his hand through his hair. “No.”

“So you haven’t really made up at all.”

“I sat next to her on the bus.”

“You should sit next to her because you _want_ to. You like her, remember?”

Hong Kong bites his lip, his cheeks dusted pink. “But she doesn’t like me.”

“Oh my God.”

England and Taiwan turn around. “Everything alright back there?” England asks.

“Fuck off,” Hong Kong spits in English.

England narrows his eyes while South Korea puts his hand on Hong Kong’s shoulder.

“Let’s eat at this café!” Taiwan blurts out.

Getting a table and looking over the menu is fine, but as soon as the waiter takes their order and leaves, it gets really uncomfortable.

Hong Kong is leaning his head on the table.

“I can see those years of etiquette school have been wasted on you,” England mutters.

Hong Kong’s head snaps up. “Fuck you.”

“You need to come up with more insults.”

“Fuck—”

“Boy, horseback riding sure was fun!” Taiwan aggressively interrupts. “Did you teach Kha Loung as a kid, Arthur? Or did he have his own instructor?”

England blinks. “Uh, somewhat of both? Mostly the instructor, but I guess I taught him how to play polo.”

“I hate polo,” Hong Kong mumbles.

“But you were good at it.” England pauses. “Remember when you knocked Wales off of his horse? That was marvelous.”

Hong Kong does that smile South Korea likes. He finds himself weirdly endeared, becomes confused by his own emotions, then stands up and announces he’s going to the bathroom.

After forcing himself to pee, he washes his hands and stares at himself in the mirror, feeling his stomach churn as the realization dawns on him.

_Don’t develop a crush._

_What are you even doing?_

_He’ll reject me. He’ll reject me, and it will be just as bad as it was with Yao. I can’t develop feelings for someone—develop feelings_ again _—for someone who can’t return them._

 _That’s why I was fixated on what Kiku said. Fuck. He was never talking about Kha Loung either. I just wanted—I just_ really _wanted it to be him._

He opens the bathroom door, getting startled when he comes face to face with Taiwan.

“Did you really have to pee? Because for a moment there, I thought you were being perceptive.”

“What?”

“Look. Now that Kha Loung and Arthur are alone, they’re talking. Holy shit if this isn’t the development of the century.”

South Korea watches them. The bathroom is in a mini hallway, so he and Taiwan are out of sight.

“Hey, Yong-Soo,” Taiwan murmurs after a bit.

“Y-Yeah?”

England awkwardly touches Hong Kong’s shoulder.

She looks away from them. “I think I’m a lesbian.”

South Korea has no idea what to say.

Taiwan averts eye contact. “Is Kha Loung avoiding me because he’s disgusted?”

“Fuck, no, Mei—”

“Then why!?”

“He—He just feels weird about the whole relationship thing. That’s it.”

Hong Kong frantically starts rubbing his eyes. England hands him a napkin.

“Yong-Soo?” Taiwan whispers

“Yeah?”

She isn’t looking at him. “Do you have a crush on Kha Loung?”

South Korea feels like a tub of cold water has been dumped on him. “No,” he says immediately, feeling like he wants to cry.

“Because Kha Loung seems to really like you.”

South Korea swallows. He so desperately wants to believe that and Kiku’s stupid goddamn words, but. “We’re not—we’re not that close, Mei.”

“Yong-Soo, he’s been a wreck these past two weeks ever since you started ignoring him.”

“I—”

“He’s so elated that you’re talking to him again.”

“M-Mei.”

“And before all of this, back at home when everything was normal, he would mention you a lot, you know. Like, you would always include him in the group chats, or send him jokes. I don’t know; he always said it annoyed him, but we could all tell that it made him really happy.”

South Korea’s heart is pounding.

_Maybe he does reciprocate—_

_No._

_I’ll just be rejected if I hold onto these feelings._

_I need to abandon them. I need—_

“Yong-Soo?”

“What?” he almost snaps, horrified when his voice breaks.

“I really do think Kha Loung likes you,” Taiwan whispers.

“God, Mei, he’s straight.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not, but okay.”

“He literally said he was.”

“Okay, but I thought I was too until two hours ago, so.”

“Why are you telling me this?” South Korea hisses, feeling conflicted.

Taiwan bites her lip. “’Cause I’m just trying to fix everything I messed up.”

“So I’m just his rebound!?”

“What? No!”

Some people turn to look at them.

“No,” Taiwan says in a quieter voice. “I just…I want both of you to be happy.”

“Things are a little too complicated right now for that,” South Korea spits. He feels anxious. Fuck—

_A Japanese official reached into a jar and pulled out a piece of paper._

_“Hong Kong!” the man read in a booming voice._

_“NO!” he shrieked in English. “No, no, no, no—”_

“I need to get out of here,” South Korea blurts out.

“W-What?”

He practically bolts out of the café.

He has no idea where he’s going, though, so he just walks. He walks, and keeps his head down, and feels like shit.

_Kha Loung doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like me. He—_

South Korea notices a cigarette vending machine.

Feeling frazzled, he walks up to it; then curses when he realizes he doesn’t have any change.

“I really don’t think you should be smoking,” Halim says in Arabic, causing South Korea’s head to jerk. He and Ilse are on a nearby bench, and he has a cigarette in his mouth.

“Want one?” Halim asks.

South Korea nods, cautiously approaching him. He then backs away and takes a drag after Halim lights one for him. He hasn’t smoked in at least a year, and shit, does the nicotine feel good.

Thankfully Ilse and Halim don’t ask any questions, and he stands there for a while, thinking, staring into space, wondering if they can even trust these two people, especially Halim. He lied to them about the experiments. He’s lying to them about his stupid niece—

_Stop thinking about it._

Ilse’s phone vibrates.

“Robert again?” Halim asks.

Her expression is pained. “Yes.”

“Have you responded at all?”

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

Halim leans his head back. “Good. I think it’s healthier this way.”

South Korea opens his mouth to say something, but a sharp burst of pain in his head cuts him off. Shit, Taiwan is actively searching out his presence.

She comes around the corner, out of breath.

“That’s cheating,” South Korea says dully.

“ _Cheating_?” Hong Kong spits out, also coming into view. “We couldn’t—Why the hell did you leave? It’s like it’s Paris all over again.”

South Korea clenches his jaw, fighting another urge to bolt.

“Well hello,” Ilse says in English, startling Taiwan and Hong Kong. “Are the three of you okay?”

“Yes,” they all say immediately.

“Mhmm, okay.”

The nicotine is no longer curbing South Korea’s anxiety. “Where’s Arthur?” he spits out.

“Back at the fucking restaurant because _someone_ has to pay,” Hong Kong snaps.

“I think we’ll leave you three be,” Ilse mutters, standing up from the bench.

South Korea angrily drops his cigarette when they’re gone.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Hong Kong asks, taking a step closer to him. His face is etched with worry.

South Korea backs up, scared to be near him. “Nothing.”

“I swear to God if you overdose on sleeping meds tonight—”

“Why does it matter!?”

Hong Kong blinks, confusion washing over his face.

South Korea’s chest clenches. 

He starts walking away, his mind being consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. “Leave me alone.”

_Please._

Hong Kong walks forward. “W-Wait!”

“Kha Loung, leave him,” Taiwan mutters, grabbing his shoulder.

South Korea disappears around the corner; then freezes when he hears the two talking.

He pathetically eavesdrops.

“What were you two talking about at the bathroom?” Hong Kong demands.

Taiwan doesn’t respond.

“Mei—”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you suddenly care so much about him?”

There’s a long pause.

“He—He started ignoring me,” Hong Kong eventually gets out.

“Yeah, I know. I tried to comfort you about it when we were friends, and look where that got us.”

Hong Kong’s voice catches. “Aren’t—What the hell, aren’t we friends now?”

“With the way you’ve been acting today? Are we?”

Hong Kong doesn’t respond.

“Does the idea that I may be a lesbian disgust you?”

“What the fuck—no. Who even—”

“I’ve been talking to Yong-Soo,” Taiwan mumbles. “I think I’m a lesbian, Kha Loung.”

“O-Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice breaks. “I know you’ve had a crush on me for a while, and I just led you along. Shit, I _kissed_ you.”

“Ssh, Mei.”

She starts crying.

“I wanted you to feel better! I wanted you to stop thinking about him and be happy.”

South Korea is rooted into place. He feels like he should do something, but he has no idea what.

_All of this is my fault._

“Sorry,” Taiwan eventually mumbles, sounding like she’s calming down.

“It’s fine,” Hong Kong says immediately.

“I’ve been doing this a lot lately; crying on you.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

“I’ve been emotionally draining, huh?”

“Mei.”

“I’m just—”

“ _Mei._ ”

It’s silent until South Korea feels a sharp pain in his head.

“I knew you were eavesdropping,” Taiwan hisses.

South Korea feels his stomach clench. Her eyes are swollen when he walks around the corner. She and Hong Kong are facing each other, but they aren’t touching, Hong Kong seeming too frazzled to do so anyway.

Taiwan closes her eyes. “We’re all such a mess right now.”

Before either of them can respond, England comes around the corner. “Hey, I gave up on you guys coming back. So, um.” He holds up bags of food. “I got everything to go? We can eat here.”

“Yeah,” Taiwan murmurs, opening her eyes. “Let’s do that.”

* * *

 

“You’re a lesbian?” England asks.

They just finished eating.

Taiwan nods, hugging her knees.

“Here, why don’t we take a walk?” England suggests. Both Hong Kong and South Korea mutely sit there, having no idea what to say. “We can talk about it. I’ve also…struggled with my sexuality.”

Taiwan sniffs. “Okay.”

South Korea watches them walk off together. He and Hong Kong are on the bench.

His heart is pounding, but he’s pathetically trying to ignore it.

“He’s been more caring with her in the past hour than he has been with me my entire life,” Hong Kong mutters.

“Didn’t you two talk at lunch, though?”

“Yeah, but one conversation isn’t going to magically fix everything.”

South Korea thinks about his arguments with Japan. “…True.”

There’s a long pause.

He eventually closes his eyes. “I’m sorry I avoided you.” _I’m sorry I’ve developed these feelings._

“You already apologized for that,” Hong Kong mumbles.

He opens his eyes and is surprised when he sees how vulnerable the other man looks.

“Just don’t do it again,” Hong Kong continues, gripping onto his pants.

South Korea nods slowly, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close they are. “I won’t.”

_I don’t want to._

His heart is pounding, and with each passing second, he feels more and more anxious.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he blurts out before he can do something stupid. “We can—we can just wait here until we have to go back to the bus.”

“…Okay.”

* * *

 

South Korea is in a weird mood when it’s time to leave.

He and Hong Kong are the first back at the bus besides Ilse and Halim. The two of them, tactfully, don’t mention anything about earlier.

South Korea sits where he was before and blinks when Hong Kong follows him.

“What about Mei?” he mumbles. His earlier scared and anxious feelings are now being replaced by exhaustion.

Hong Kong rubs his eyes. “I think we need some space for at least a couple of hours.”

“Ah.”

“And I want to sit next to you…”

South Korea’s mind nearly short-circuits. It takes a moment for Hong Kong to process what he just said because then he flushes.

“I’m tired,” he blurts out as if that’s an explanation.

“You…can sleep on my shoulder,” South Korea whispers without really thinking. “Only if—only if you want to.”

Hong Kong doesn’t respond.

Prussia, France, and Spain are the next three to arrive, and they look like they’ve been crying.

 _Wow, I’m glad we’ve all had a terrific day_.

South Korea blinks. “Where’s Canada?”

“He met up with Japan and Alfred,” France grumbles. He pauses. “Where’s Arthur?”

“Here,” England says, walking onto the bus with Taiwan.

Taiwan glances at Hong Kong and South Korea, and South Korea forces himself to make eye contact. He smiles. It feels like a rush of a relief when she returns it and sits where she was with Canada earlier.

Thankfully the rest of them seem happy when they arrive, and they all joke around with each other as the bus sets off.

Even if South Korea wanted to join them, he passes out almost immediately.

* * *

 

Eventually, he’s nudged awake.

“Yong-Soo, we’re here,” China says.

He slowly opens his eyes; then gets confused when he sees Hong Kong pressed against him, his head on his shoulder, asleep.

South Korea freaks out and jerks his body. Hong Kong’s eyes flutter open.

China is still staring at them.

“What the hell?” Hong Kong grumbles.

“We’re back at the house,” South Korea blurts out. He looks at China. China innocently looks at him.

South Korea frowns. 

* * *

 

The rest of the night is…weird.

Like, South Korea will get up to go piss or whatever, and suddenly someone is suggesting that Hong Kong comes with him. Or he’ll say something, and then someone will ask what Hong Kong thinks.

Everyone’s in on it, too.

South Korea keeps staring at Taiwan, trying to get an answer, but she avoids eye contact with him the entire night.

When he finally gets into bed, he’s so mentally exhausted it’s draining.

South Korea turns to Canada after he walks into the room. “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Canada turns off the light.

Canada turns off the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh…my fucking God.


	18. VII. Kazimir & Robert

(17 июль 1953 года)

 _17 July 1953_  

It’s the first time in days that Kazimir can finally breathe.

They—They found the Russian Nation Avatar. They’re doing a deal to get him back.

_No one is going to kill me._

He releases a shaky breath and steps inside the waiting room. Currently, negotiations are going on, and the Nations are somewhere else in the building. Kazimir wasn’t given too many details, but honestly, he doesn’t care—

_Oh._

There’s someone else in the waiting room.

They make eye contact, and Kazimir frowns. The man appears to be younger than him, his skin is almost olive toned, and he has dark brown eyes and hair.

He’s clearly not Russian.

Kazimir turns around, ready to find somewhere else to sit.

“Wait, are you the Soviet Nation Advisor?” the American man asks him. He seems jittery.

 _You’re going to make me use my shitty English, aren’t you_?

Kazimir steels himself, facing him again. “Yes.”

“Ah. Well, I’m the new American one.”

 _Oh_.

_They finally found a replacement for Frank._

Kazimir hasn’t seen or talked to him in three years.

“My name is Kazimir Gorelov,” he mutters when the America man continues to stare at him.

He scrunches up his eyebrows. Kazimir notices he’s digging his nails into his palms.“Ka-zi-mir?”

“Your pronunciation is off,” a voice says.

Kazimir’s breath catches in his throat, and he whirls around.

Frank smiles. “Hey,” he says in Polish. “This is my, um, replacement. His name is Robert Donati. He has a bit of a temper and is a little rude, but he doesn’t mean it.”

“What the fuck; you speak Russian?” Robert asks.

“No,” Frank says in English. “Polish.”

“They sound the same.”

Kazimir is frozen. He’s almost shaking; it’s pathetic.

“I haven’t—I thought they did something to you after the dogfight,” he blurts out in Polish.

Frank suddenly looks so tired. “I…tried to resign from being a Nation Advisor after it, but…well, it didn’t work out.”

Kazimir frowns.

“I was in a dark place for a while,” Frank continues, forcing out a grin. “But I—it’s fine now. Anyway, I’m going to do mostly behind the scenes stuff while Robert will be there physically with the Nation Avatar. ”

“What are you two saying?” Robert demands, clearly getting agitated.

They ignore him.

“What about you?” Frank hums, his eyes turning soft. “Have you been well?”

Kazimir almost melts into place. “Directly after the dogfight was rough,” he murmurs. “But now that I know you’re safe…”

Frank looks guilty. “I’m sorry. I just—I had to get out. I knew I was leaving you, but—I’m sorry.”

Robert is staring at them, his expression twisted.

Frank glances at him. “Sorry, Robert. Kazimir and I are close.”

“He’s a Soviet.”

“That’s irrelevant. Plus, he’s a fellow Nation Advisor. I’m sure you two will get along.”

“Does he even speak English?”

“My English is poor,” Kazimir says in that language. “I understand you okay. I do not speak well.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty shitty.”

“It’s his third language,” Frank defends. “And you only know English.”

“Because I’m American,” Robert mutters. “There’s no need to know anything else.”

Kazimir decides he doesn’t like him.

* * *

 

Robert leaves at one point to go to the bathroom, muttering something to himself along the way, and that’s when Kazimir decides to grill Frank.

“Why him?” he asks in Polish. “Why is he…?”

Frank suddenly looks distressed. “It’s a repayment.”

“What?”

“I—I did something horrible to his family, so I’ve been trying to make amends.”

Kazimir opens his mouth; then closes it as Frank forces out a smile.

“I’m all he has now.”

“…”

“I’m…I’m all he has.”

* * *

 

(9 июня 1953 года)

 _20 August 1953_  

Kazimir is having a mild panic attack.

When Russia told him that he wanted to pass along information to America, and help the Nations being kept in Siberia, and use the official letter exchange as a front, and was willing to _pay him_ , none of that quite sunk in until now, here at this fucking Ottawa UN building, where after lunch he’ll have to help Russia hand over the real letters.

He doesn’t know if America is working with his Nation Advisor as well, working with either Frank or…

Robert.

“Why did you—why am I here again?” Kazimir demands, struggling to phrase what he wants to ask in English. He’s already freaking out enough and has no idea why Robert pulled him to the side.

Robert is smoking a cigar. “Frank wanted me to talk to you,” he mumbles.

Kazimir glares at him. “Then you can start the talking.”

“Fine, you—” Robert drops his cigar. “Are you aware that this letter exchange is all just a hoax?”

“What?”

“America and Russia set it up so they could pass along information to each other.”

Kazimir feels like a tub of cold water has just been dumped on him. Fuck, if he knows, then does the Soviet government? Will Kazimir be caught and arrested for treason?

“Why do you say that?” he gets out.

“Well, Frank is a bit weird and obsessive, so he went through all of America’s personal belongings and happened to find some uncensored letters, meaning the ones that America and Russia are trading officially are,” he says a word Kazimir doesn’t know, but he implies the meaning as ‘fake.’

_…So neither of our governments do know. Frank wouldn’t tell anyone._

“He hasn’t told anyone,” Robert mumbles. “He was adamant.”

“Why?” Not why he wouldn’t report it; Kazimir knows Frank hates doing crap like that, but why would he even go through America’s belongings in the first place?

Robert’s face twists. “I don’t know; he said something about revenge?”

“Revenge,” Kazimir repeats slowly.

“Because he’s angry about the whole—he phrased it as ‘dogfight thing.’” Robert is looking more and more nervous. “And he wants to help them cause chaos? So he can fuck the system? I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about half the time; it feels like he’s drunk every night.”

Kazimir didn’t know Frank drank a lot. The fact this random kid does causes bile to rise in the back of his throat.

“Why are you tell me?” he asks, looking away.

Robert fidgets. “I already said; Frank wanted me to.”

“From me, what do you want, then?”

“To help us help them so Frank can get his weird revenge.”

There’s a long stretch of silence as they stare at each other.

Kazimir looks away. “Well, I am already help.”

“Excuse me?”

“Russia gave me money to help.”

“ _What_?”

“Yes.”

Robert seems flabbergasted. “Frank doesn’t even want to approach America because he thought we could get caught that way.”

“I did not do the approaching to Russia. He came to me.”

“Are _you_ doing this to fuck the system?”

“No. I told you. Money.” Though if this is what Frank wants…

There’s another uncomfortable stretch of silence.

“We can collab,” Kazimir eventually says.

“O-Okay. I’ll tell Frank.”

“You want money?”

“What?”

“You two want money? I do not know what to do with all of it.”

“…How much did he give you?”

“A lot.”

Robert looks like he has no idea what to do. That’s fine. Kazimir isn’t looking to bond with the brat who half of Frank’s attention is now wasted on.

_But if I have to work with him to make Frank happy…_

The wind picks up, and Kazimir is ready to go back inside. He needs to mentally prepare himself for whatever this letter exchange is going to be like.

“It’s almost lunchtime,” Robert mumbles.

Kazimir doesn’t respond.

He fidgets. “The food here is shit.”

_Why are you trying to talk to me?_

“Does that mean good or bad?”

“Are you fucking with me? It means it’s bad.”

“My English not good.”

“You just made your accent worse right now on purpose.”

Kazimir finds himself smiling. “You could learn Russian.”

“I’m not learning your communist language.”

“Fine. Polish, then.”

Robert looks at him like he has five heads. Despite himself, Kazimir realizes he’s laughing.

* * *

 

(9 ноябрь 1964 года)

 _8 November 1964_  

“You’ve never seen Vertigo?”

Kazimir rolls his eyes. “Yes, I have not. It is an American movie. I live in the Soviet Union.”

Robert frowns. “Oh. Right.”

They’re at a UN meeting; just the two of them.

He…and Robert act differently when Frank isn’t present. When he’s there, they bicker constantly. Now, though, it’s calm. They just did the letter exchange. It’s a nice autumn day…

Kazimir takes a deep breath, feeling his anxiety dissipate. Despite everything, he’s come to enjoy these moments over the past eleven years. It makes him feel…good, after everything his bastard of a dead father used to say, to know there are people who don’t mind being with him.

Or at least, Robert doesn’t mind when Frank isn’t there.

He glances at him; then frowns when he sees him staring. “What?”

“I think I’m going to retire soon,” Robert says at the same time.

Kazimir drops the cigarette he was smoking.

Robert is staring at the ground now. “With the new Presidential election that just happened and everything, I think they’re going to let me go.”

“You—you are—what?”

“I _have_ been doing this goddamn job for eleven years now.”

_I barely see Frank anymore. I can’t lose you too._

“I have been doing mine for twenty,” is what comes out of Kazimir’s mouth.

“Well, the Nation Advisor job is slightly different in the US.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Frank and I will still be coming to these stupid meetings,” Robert mumbles after a few moments. “Just not as often.”

“…”

“You look like I kicked a puppy.”

“Fuck off,” Kazimir sneers, his head pounding.

“You’re great at cursing; you know that?” Robert says, nudging him. His touch makes Kazimir’s skin crawl. “Your accent is perfect when you’re cursing.”

He isn’t in the mood. “Fuck you.”

“We’ll still be here,” Robert mutters, staring at the ground.

Kazimir finally looks at him, his anxiety threatening to boil over. When they make eye contact, though, suddenly everything feels weird. Robert is standing close, and he looks _vulnerable_ , and Kazimir has the intense urge to touch him despite that reaction before.

_What the fuck are we—_

_You’re not Frank. You’re not—_

“Wait, _twenty_ years? How old are you?” Robert blurts out. “I thought you were my age.”

Kazimir takes two steps back, swallowing. “Though I am flattered, I am thirty-eight.” He adds two years to his age. No one needs to know that he was sixteen when he started as a Nation Advisor. Only Frank. Just him. Not Robert. Only Frank matters. He doesn’t need any goddamn _feelings_ for Robert.

“Oh,” Robert mumbles.

“…”

“Well, I’m twenty-eight, so I guess you’re ten years older than me even though you look like a pre-pubescent teen.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

Kazimir mutters a response, though. “My voice is not high and nasally like yours.”

“Screw you.” Despite that, Robert is smiling.

Kazimir looks away, willing his headache to disappear.

_I don’t want him to be replaced._

The thought really annoys him.

* * *

 

(2 май 1975 года)

 _2 May 1975_  

Kazimir squeezes a cucumber. It seems firm enough.

He sighs, picking it up and hobbling over to the shopkeeper. On the way, he passes by a child. She starts crying. Her mother consoles her.

Kazimir places the vegetables on the counter, feeling dead inside.

“That everything?” the owner asks in Russian, knowing he can’t speak a lick of Kazakh despite living here for four years now.

He nods.

The walk home is slow, and he can feel the townspeople stare at him; observe him like he’s some sort of freak show.

He knows what they say.

_“He doesn’t have a job, but he has all this money.”_

_“I heard he’s an ex-Soviet official.”_

_“I wonder what he did.”_

_“Why did he come here?”_

He fled Russia because he had no choice. The mafia group only allowed him to stay with them until he wasn’t in critical condition. Afterward, they kicked him out, said if he didn’t leave, they would sell him to the Soviet regime.

So he came to Kazakhstan, went to the bank where he was storing all of the money Russia gave him and was originally splitting with—took it out, and has been living off of it since.

Wasting away.

He’s contemplated suicide many of times, but he just can’t bring himself to follow through.

He knows Frank would be upset with him if he did.

Kazimir fumbles to open his door with his one usable, right arm, wanting nothing more than to collapse on his couch and pretend reality doesn’t exist.

Something is off when he enters, though.

He freezes. His money stash is under multiple floorboards, but if—

_No. It’s fine. You’re fine. Stop being paranoid._

Maybe he’s having a hallucination. He thought he was done with those, but—

There’s a woman standing in his kitchen.

Kazimir’s heart starts beating erratically. “Who the hell—”

“You’re Kazimir Gorelov, correct?” the woman asks in Russian. It’s accented.

Kazimir has been going by an alias ever since moving here.

He backs up. “Who are you?” he asks, attempting to mask his fear with arrogance. He’s out of touch, though, and his voice comes out strangled.

“My name is Ema. I am Croatian.”

Kazimir stares at her.

“Did you know there is another lab in Siberia? Another lab where they experiment on Yugoslavian Nations? Because I am from there.”

Kazimir hasn’t talked about Nations in years, and he can feel himself getting panicky.

“I heard what you did,” the woman continues. “And I tracked you down after I fled. Most thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t know how to respond.

The woman frowns. “There are others like me, and we want your help.”

“…With what?”

She smiles. “Revenge.”

Suddenly all Kazimir can see is Frank.

* * *

 

 _January 20, 1992_  

“Mr. Donati, this is for your own good,” Sarah, the nurse, says sweetly. “Please try to understand.”

He wants to strangle her.

Instead, he nods. He’s given up the willpower to fight.

Sarah beams. “I’m glad you understand. I’ll be leaving now and locking the door. Someone will be here tomorrow at 8 AM to check on you!”

Robert is under house arrest.

Apparently, suicide attempts are a ‘no-no’ for any previous Nation Advisor, especially since they still don’t know what happened to Frank.

Robert wants to cut himself.

But there are no sharp objects at this—this prison house.

He grits his teeth and paces like a caged animal.

When he was the head director of that Nation program he set up in 1977, at least his life had a _purpose_. But then his depression kept creeping in, and destructive thoughts started to take hold, so he—he lost it one day at work. He fucking lost it.

So they took him off the project, and afterward, his life just continuously got worse and worse until he had enough and tried to hang himself.

But somehow he fucked up! He somehow fucked up, so now he’s here! Under house arrest!

He has no friends. No family. Frank killed his family, and then himself, all because of Kazimir. Fucking _Kazimir_. And because of that bastard, Robert is all alone in a random house in the middle of fucking nowhere, and they expect him to _want to_ keep living.

God, he hates himself.

There’s a knock on the door.

He stops pacing.

Another knock.

He hesitantly approaches it and glances out the window. It’s dark, so he can only make out a figure.

“What?” he snaps, nearly at his breaking point. He can’t deal with Sarah or her goons anymore.

The figure jostles the door, and Robert backs up, swallowing bile.

“Your living is not how I would picture,” the person says in broken English as soon as the door opens, stepping into the light.

The world seems to still.

“Kazi-Kazimir?”

“Yes.”

Robert isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating. The person—This aged person with a nasty scar on his face and only one arm—How can it be—

Kazimir limps further inside, shutting the door behind him. “My English is not so good—right now, anymore.”

Robert is dazed. “I…see that.”

“And you are here because you fucked up suicide attempt. What has happened to you? That is not how I remember. You used to be…”

“Why are _you_ here?” Robert snaps. “God, everything—the plan—it’s over now. Move on.”

“Have you moved on? You do not seem like.”

Robert’s mouth is dry. 

“Exactly. Listen, I am here only for a short while, yes? I want your help for revenge plan.”

His expression twists. “Re—what?”

“Against US and Russian Nation programs and what they did to us. Look at you. Look at me. Their fault. It is their fault. What they did to Frank is their fault.”

“Frank is dead.”

“I know, you told me,” Kazimir sneers. “Then hung phone up.”

“How did you get here?” Robert gets out, feeling so many emotions at once it’s overwhelming.

“Fake passport from Kazakhstan. I live there now. The government is not working well; things are easy to do.”

They stare at each other.

“Well, there’s no way I can help you,” Robert ends up mumbling, his heart beating erratically. “We don’t even have a way to communicate.”

“You are wrong with both these things. You are the founder of the American Nation program. You, Robert Donati.”

“…How do you know that?”

“Collapse of Soviet Union means government is in shambles. Files were leaked. They knew about it, so I now know about it too. You have important information that you could share. You also have access—”

“I’m not doing this,” Robert blurts out. “I’m not getting myself involved in shit like this _again_.”

Kazimir blinks; then suddenly has that pompous, arrogant expression he came to know at one point in his life. For whatever unfathomable reason, it’s _comforting_. “Really? So you would rather spend your time wasting away? Perhaps suicide was the correct answer for you.”

“ _Fuck off_.”

Kazimir drops the bag he is carrying and takes out a thick, clunky laptop and pager. “There is Soviet messaging system set up. It is secure. We can chat through there. We know if the other has sent a message because the pager will vibrate.”

Robert stares at it in pure bafflement.

Kazimir takes a deep breath after a bit. “Remember when you told me. You told me Frank wanted revenge. Wanted to make chaos to show we could not be manipulated by system.”

Robert’s breathing gets ragged.

“So we would do it for him. For…us.” Kazimir’s voice gets soft. “Robert, you do not know how long I have looked for you…”

He backs up until he’s pressed against the wall. “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me!?”

“Why would I come if I was? Do you think this was easy; me getting here?” Kazimir murmurs as he approaches him.

Robert has nowhere to run.

“I have missed you.”

It takes everything in his power not to cry when Kazimir touches his arm.

* * *

 

(9 май 2015 года)

 _9 May 2015_  

Kazimir wakes with a jolt.

He can’t remember the dream, but there were red eyes.

He stares at the dark ceiling. Specks of dust seem to be swirling around, choking him, suffocating—

Vibrating.

Kazimir’s head jerks to where his pager his, and he forces himself to sit up, his back protesting in the process. He then scoots over and lowers himself into his wheelchair.    

> > **Дата Вход** : 09.05.15
> 
> **Robert** : are you awake 

Kazimir’s immediate thought is, _are you okay_? Robert never messages him at, Christ, 2 AM. But he doesn’t want to ask that. That would show how attached he’s getting.

He can’t let Robert know what’s happening to his emotions.   

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Yes.
> 
> **Robert** : i wanted to talk to you eariler but i never go the chance because i was being interrogated
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Interrogated?
> 
> **Robert** : i will tell you about it later I prmise but I don’t want to talk abaout that right now

The harsh light from the laptop’s straining Kazimir’s eyes, and he squints. He sent Robert updates earlier in the day but never got a response.   

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Clearly something has happened--are you okay?
> 
> **Robert** : i want to kill myself

Kazimir’s ears start ringing.    

> **Robert** : i’m really close to kiling myself righ tnow and I have no idea why I messaged you fuck

_No, no, no, no, no—_

> **Robert** : ilse is avoiding me now she doesn’t trust me anymore and i fucking hate myself and im old so what’s really the point of iving anymore youre also old and will die soon and we’ll all die soon so what’s even the point what are we even i
> 
> **Robert** : fuck this plan has beocome my entire life
> 
> **Robert** : and I shot america my purpose at one point but I guess that doesn’t matter abymore since I don’t; get any satisifaction from helping him out anymore everything is so dull
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please do not kill yourself
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Tell me what happened.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Talk to me.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am here for you.
> 
> **Robert** : i
> 
> **Robert** : there was training today with the goriegn minister and secretary of state i told you about this
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I know.
> 
> **Robert** : yeah well they were testing that serum Ive also told you about with the prsences and it ent wrong it went wrong and america, russia, and china lost it and i had to take out that gun that that swiss guy Axel gave me and i shot him
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Shot whom? America?
> 
> **Robert** : Yeha multiple times to prevent him from killing everyone and he fell and it was just like korea again and fuck
> 
> **Robert** : he was foamign at hte mouth and his eyes were bright red and then i was interrogate about having a gun so i told them i was paranoid andd always had it on me and blamed it on secruity or something i dont know but i was stuck in a small room for hours and
> 
> **Robert** : there was blood everywhere. the prussian nation avatar got his shoulder fucked up too and 
> 
> **Robert** : im sick of this life ive been roped into and i want to die
> 
> **Robert** : everyoen hates me i have no one
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You have me.

No response. Kazimir is nearly panicking.  

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Soon we will be together in person, okay? 11 more days. Everything will get better then
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : on the 20th, we will attack that UN building during the meeting and retrieve you, and then you will be taken back to Palestine
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : And we will be together. And cause that Chaos
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Frank will be happy. And we can be happy. Together. We have caused that chaos. We have fulfilled purpose
> 
> **Robert** : why are we doing this?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Doing what?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Chaos?
> 
> **Robert** : caring about each other
> 
> **Robert** : I know you were in love with Frank.

Kazimir’s vision blacks out for a second.  

> **Robert** : and im just his replacement
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Robert, I cared about Frank
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : But it’s you now who I
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : It’s the two of us now.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : There are only 11 more days.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Wait for me.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please. 

* * *

 

 _May 9, 2015_  

Robert is crying.

He’s drunk, alone, it’s 1:30 AM, and he’s crying.

Kazimir is now messaging him updates on the Nation Avatars he’s training.

It shouldn’t be comforting, but…

_“It’s the two of u   s now.” “It’s the two of us now.”_

_“It’s the two of us_

_“It’s the t     wo of u      s now.”_

_“It’s        the two “It’s the_

_two of us now.” “It’s the two of us_

_now.”_

* * *

  

__

[Left: Kazimir. Right: Robert]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (image commissioned from vicious-mongrel.tumblr.com!)


	19. Falling Apart

_11\. Mai 2015_

The wheelchair gets caught on one of the cobblestones, so Spain has to jostle it.

“Sorry,” he rushes out immediately when he sees Prussia wince.

Prussia swallows. “It’s fine. Let’s go over by those benches.”

They’re waiting for France and Canada, who are getting lunch in some pastry shop.

Prussia fidgets, growing impatient when Spain doesn’t move him. He twists his head. “Antonio.”

Spain jumps. “Sorry—benches. Right.”

He pushes him over; then sits down on the ground.

Prussia frowns. “…What are you doing?”

“Oh! Right.” He gets up and moves.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah!”

“…”

France comes out of the store.

Prussia blinks after he waves him over. “Where’s Matt?”

“We ran into Alfred and Kiku, so he’s going to hang out with them.”

“Ah.”

They both absentmindedly eat, except for Spain, who just picks at his muffin.

“Antonio, what’s wrong?” France asks after a bit.

Spain seems startled, but he quickly forces out a grin. “Nothing!”

Prussia and France look at each other.

“Antonio, seriously, what’s wrong?” Prussia asks after France stands up to throw out their trash.

Spain runs his hand through his hair. “I—”

The rain picks up.

“Shit, your cast can’t get wet,” he blurts out instead.

Prussia feels annoyed. “That doesn’t matter.”

Spain goes to move him. “Yes it—”

He trips and crashes into Prussia’s chair.

Spain and France start shouting as he rolls down the hill they’re on. He jumps out of the wheelchair just before it slams into a tree, but he’s not graceful, so he tumbles until he ends up on his back.

He’s unable to catch his breath the pain is so bad.

Spain and France are suddenly next to him. Spain is freaking out. France is asking questions.

He can’t understand them.

“I’m fine,” he chokes out in German, repeats in German, hoping the statement will come true.

France nods and gently props him up. He’s examining his shoulder when Spain asks him something.

Prussia grunts, hoping the response is sufficient enough, and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to will back his ability to speak any language, make the pain go away, for once in his goddamn life _heal._

France says something.

Spain says something.

Prussia feels tears welling up.

“Gilbert.”

He opens his eyes.

Concern is etched onto Spain and France’s faces. France says something.

Prussia stares.

He repeats himself.

“I—”

“Fuck, Gilbert, can you not understand us?” Spain says, switching over to German, his voice now filled with hysteria.

He flinches.

“You can’t understand us?” France asks, also in German, a thousand different expressions flickering across his face.

Prussia feels overwhelmed. “Give—Give it a moment.”

They sit there on the wet ground, the rain dampening their clothing, the wind picking up and causing them to shiver.

“Try talking to me in another language,” Prussia mumbles when his pain finally begins to die down.

“Can you understand what I’m saying?” France asks in French, his voice soft and uncertain.

A wave of relief washes over Prussia like a drug. “Yes.”

France’s shoulders slump. “Good.” He shudders, pulling Prussia into a hug. “Good.”

Spain, meanwhile, gets so worked up his eyes turn red.

Prussia scoots away from France. “Antonio—”

He turns around and punches a tree, hitting it hard enough to break his hand and leave a dent.

Prussia stands up despite France’s warnings.

“Why can’t you do this?” Spain murmurs, dazed. He’s staring at his hand, which is already healing.

Prussia averts eye contact. “Because I should be dead.”

Spain clenches his jaw.

“Antonio,” France says, seeming utterly frazzled. “Talk to us. Stop—”

“Soon there won’t be an _us_ ,” he spits out. “Soon there will just be me and you, Francis. He’ll be _gone_.”

France opens and closes his mouth as Spain buries his face in his hands, the mangled one smearing blood everywhere.

“Antonio,” Prussia says, his voice coming out more strangled than he intended. “We still have time.”

“What, four years? Four years is nothing!”

“Four years is a lot,” France counters. His skin is pale. “We can do a lot.”

“You didn’t even think that until Arthur said so!” Spain screams. His damaged hand is no longer bleeding, just bruised.

“Don’t be so pessimistic!”

“Oh, sorry I can’t find the optimism in a situation where someone is dying of cancer!”

“Guys,” Prussia interrupts, staring at Spain’s shaking figure.

“You’re one of the few who really knows who I am,” Spain gets out. “And now you’re leaving.”

“I don’t want to die!” Prussia yells in disbelief. “That’s why I’m still fucking here!”

“…”

“Antonio, I’m—If I could stay alive with you and Francis for another century, I would.”

Spain starts crying.

“Antonio.” France’s voice cracks. “You’re acting like the two of us aren’t friends. I’ll still be here—I’ll be here with you.”

Spain’s hand is healed. “But Gilbert will be dead.”

Prussia feels numb.

* * *

 

They eventually calm down, grab Prussia’s wheelchair, then walk back up the hill and pretend like nothing happened.

It’s easier that way.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 _12\. Mai 2015_    

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I need advice
> 
> > **Lovino** : at 1 am?
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Yes
> 
> > **Gilbert** : And you’re awake rn anyway don’t give me this shit
> 
> > **Lovino** : dine, shoot
> 
> > **Lovino** : but i’m somewhat tipsy
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Fantastic
> 
> > **Lovino** : fuck feli just saw that i was texting you, so prepare yourself
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Is he also tipsy?
> 
> > **Lovino** : lmao i wish
> 
> > **Lovino** : he’s wasted
> 
> > **Lovino** : he got pissed after a girl dumped his ass mid-make out session at the club. Idk, I really don’t know since i was too busy getting laid

     

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : (ﾉ>ω<)ﾉ :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆
> 
> > **Feliciano** : ♬♫♪◖(● o ●)◗♪♫♬

     

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Wait you were getting laid?? I thought you and Antonio
> 
> > **Gilbert** : What
> 
> > **Lovino** : no it’s cool he knows
> 
> > **Gilbert** : …Really?
> 
> > **Lovino** : yeah lmao
> 
> > **Gilbert** : He doesn't seem like the type of person who’d be into an open relationship though?
> 
> > **Lovino** : well, he’s fine with it lol
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Okay...
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Surprisingly he’s what I wanted to talk to you about
> 
> > **Lovino** : alright

   

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Feliciano** : (o・_・)ノ”(ノ_<、)
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Feli go to bed
> 
> > **Feliciano** : You do not get to have all the fun with Lovi. You have to talk to me to whether you like it or not
> 
> > **Feliciano** : If you ignore me I’m going to keep Poking you on Facebook
> 
> > **Feliciano** : uwu

  

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m having an aneurysm
> 
> > **Lovino** : im laughing you should see feli’s face right now
> 
> > **Lovino** : but seriously--what do you want to ask
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Antonio is bottling up his emotins
> 
> > **Gilbert** : And like, usually I’m pretty good at getting him to open up, bu this time since Im the root of the problem, it’s been difficult
> 
> > **Gilbert** : So I’m coming to you--how do I make him stop
> 
> > **Lovino** : lmao??? you can’t??
> 
> > **Lovino** : getting him to talk is almost like extracting a tooth
> 
> > **Lovino** : it’s awful
> 
> > **Lovino** : it’s infuriating--holy shit
> 
> > **Lovino** : oh and god forbid i’m not pretending to be Happy or something! we always have to pretend that we’re just. So goddamn happy!!

  

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst! 

  

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Lovino** : having a range of emotions?? lmao--what’s that!?
> 
> > **Lovino** : and he has like. Two settings-- happy and then pure anger. he’s happy until you try to ask him what his true feelings are, and then he’s SUPER ANGRY :D
> 
> > **Gilbert** : ...Are you okay?
> 
> > **Lovino** : Sorry, shit, I may be drunker than I thought
> 
> > **Lovino** : I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but you know this--Antonio /never/ opens up, come on
> 
> > **Gilbert** : He’s done so in the past for me, so that’s why it’s. difficult right now? I don’t know

  

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst!

    

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Lovino** : If he’s ever opened up for you then I’m jealous
> 
> > **Lovino** : If he’s ever opened up for you then I’m jealous
> 
> > **Lovino** : he’s a pathological liar
> 
> > **Gilbert** : You’re dating, right? Like, you still like him?
> 
> > **Lovino** : yeah of course haha
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Because I still like Antonio, and I don’t want to just keep dragging him like this
> 
> > **Gilbert** : You’re telling me that in all the years you’ve known him, he’s always lied to you
> 
> > **Lovino** : *wiggly hand gesture*
> 
> > **Gilbert** : And you’re still dating him
> 
> > **Lovino** : yeah

   

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst!

   

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m going to bed
> 
> > **Lovino** : okay

  

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst!

* * *

 

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>          [2:01]
> 
> > **Lovino** : because I offered you no advice and i’ve been mulling this over for a bit now--get him drunk; then he’ll open up

* * *

   

> **Facebook** :
> 
>          [2:11]
> 
> >Feliciano Vargas hat dich angestupst!

* * *

   

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [2:34]
> 
> > **Lovino** : wait nvm he falls asleep the moment he consumes alcohol lol

* * *

 

Ilse shifts. “So yeah, training will start up next week.”

She and Prussia are in the dining room while mostly everyone else is unloading her car full of groceries. It’s around 3 PM.

“Oh, and I’m taking you back to the hospital in around a week to get your shoulder checked.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Prussia mumbles.

“You bet it’ll be.”

They hear America laugh from another room.

Prussia fidgets. “Have…you seen Robert at all?”

Ilse nearly glares at him. “No.”

“You’re not curious as to why he had, Christ, a pistol on him?”

“I really don’t want to associate with him now. Neither does Halim.”

“…”

“At this point, Halim just wants the program to run as smoothly as possible,” Ilse mumbles.

“What, so he can see his niece? Or have his niece killed? That’s pretty fucked up. Does Robert even know that Halim is gunning after her? Does anyone else know besides us?”

Ilse bites her lip.

It’s enough of a response. “Are we even sure if this kid is real?”

“…I want to believe.”

Prussia slumps into his wheelchair.

They both stare into space for a while until Ilse sighs. “I should probably leave now.”

“Can you wheel me out of here first?”

“No, I’m going to keep you trapped in here forever.”

Prussia cracks a smile.

“Oh,” Ilse says as she starts to move him.

“What?”

“I’ve made a breakthrough with contacting those French resistance members.”

Prussia blinks in confusion.

“I’ve notified some of my bosses. The whole thing might take a while to process, but…”

“You…didn’t have to do that.”

Ilse winks. “Bucket list, remember?”

She then brings him to the living room, and Prussia’s immediately greeted with the sight of Taiwan and Canada cramming South Korea and Hong Kong together on the couch as they all watch TV.

“Alright, see you, Gilbert,” Ilse murmurs.

Prussia waves using his good arm.

“Mei, I swear to God if you push me one more time,” South Korea grumbles after Ilse’s gone. He’s sitting next to her, Hong Kong on his other side at the edge of the couch.

“There’s no room,” Taiwan says innocently.

“Then sit on the armchair!”

“The angle is bad from there!”

Hong Kong starts to stand up. “I’ll move.”

“No!” Taiwan rushes out, yanking him back down.

Hong Kong stares at her. She stares back.

Prussia takes out his phone.

* * *

 

 _13\. Mai 2015_     

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Gilbert** : So do I like, grab him and say, „you and me need a chat buddy pal“
> 
> > **Liz** : I’m really questioning why you’re asking me of all people this
> 
> > **Gilbert** : Well, Lovino was unhelpful and Roderich generally avoids conflicts in his life as much as he can because it inconveniences him
> 
> > **Liz** : yeah but that’s why we love him
> 
> > **Gilbert** : <3
> 
> > **Gilbert** : But also I know he’s asleep + probably is the person that hates conflict with Antonio the most because of their ~past~
> 
> > **Gilbert** : so you’re really my next option
> 
> > **Liz** : Gee thanks
> 
> > **Liz** : But shit, Gilbert, idk. Maybe you’re not the best person to approach him. What about Francis?
> 
> > **Gilbert** : yeah he’s also been distant since I fucked up my shoulder so

She doesn’t respond.

Prussia fidgets. It’s 2 AM, and he’s lying in bed, his shoulder fastened to it, while Spain snores away.   

> > **Liz** : I really wish I was there with you right now
> 
> > **Liz** : I don’t like hearing about things like this through text
> 
> > **Gilbert** : My shoulder is fine I thought we already got that conversation out of the way
> 
> > **Liz** : Don’t downplay this
> 
> > **Liz** : Now I understand where Antonio is coming from. Just how much /are/ you downplaying this?

Prussia clenches his jaw.   

> > **Gilbert** : It’s like you people want me to continue acting like I’m dying. I’m fine at the moment. I really am
> 
> > **Liz** : I’m going to bed

_Great_.    

> > **Gilbert** : fine 

He unfastens his shoulder and gingerly sits up. Fuck, it hurts. And he just took his pain medication too.

He grits his teeth and heads downstairs, nearly jumping when he sees Hong Kong in the kitchen.

Hong Kong squints. “Should you be walking around?”

“No. But it’s fine.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Spain and France yelled at you the last time, but whatever. Your funeral.”

He’s making coffee. Prussia scrutinizes him. “Really?”

“I don’t harp on your life choices. Leave me alone.”

Prussia sits at the kitchen table, unsure what to do now.

“Do you remember having a family?” is what comes out of his mouth after a few minutes.

Hong Kong freezes.

Prussia frowns. “I mean, I dunno; just the way you acted that time when I got Halim’s texts, it seemed like…”

“…”

He feels like an idiot now. “Forget it.”

“Yes.”

They make eye contact.

“Yes,” Hong Kong repeats, suddenly seeming frazzled. “But the memories—they’re—they’re not clear.”

If Prussia could gloat to Bavaria right now, he would.

“All I remember is my parents dying. My mother was British, and my father was Chinese, and they just—we fell off of a boat during the First Opium War and drowned. But I guess I didn’t and now I’m a Nation? I don’t know. What—What about you?”

“My family was killed by Teutonic Knights because I was albino, and then I guess I became a Nation too.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“If Halim’s niece is real, do you think she even remembers him?”

Prussia shrugs. “I doubt it. Everyone else here doesn’t remember their family.”

Hong Kong takes his mug and sits at the kitchen table. “We’re going to fight her, aren’t we?” His expression is twisted. “And then bring her back to the US forces.”

Prussia looks away and frowns. “Yeah.” _Or kill her like Halim wanted._

_There’s only one way for us to die, though._

_I mean, a Nation could willingly dissolve, like in the story China told about the Roman Empire, but…_

His thumb twinges.

Desperately needing a distraction, he looks at Hong Kong, who’s staring off into space.

“Okay, I have to ask,” he blurts out.

Hong Kong frowns, his eyes focusing. “What?”

“Do you like South Korea?”

Everything stills.

Hong Kong’s expression hardens. “Yong-Soo and I are friends.”

He can bullshit all he wants, but nothing can hide the fact that Prussia was there with him during training when he was freaking out about South Korea.

“…What’s your sexuality?” he tries after Hong Kong doesn’t say anything else.

“What are you doing?”

“I know you’re not an idiot.”

“I’m just confused right now, okay?” Hong Kong hisses. “I’m just really confused. Stop asking me about this.”

Prussia can’t help himself. “But do you like him?”

His face turns scarlet. “Fuck off!”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“ _Help!?_ What like Yao—”

Prussia’s phone vibrates.

> **Nachrichten** :
> 
>            [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Antonio** : Why aren’t you in bed?

Hong Kong mutters something as he types a response. 

> > **Gilbert** : Why are you awake?
> 
> > **Antonio** : Where are you I swear to God Gil
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m just in the kitchen. Relax

Spain stumbles there a few moments later, looking frazzled. “You aren’t supposed to move your shoulder.”

“Yeah, well.” Prussia averts eye contact. “Why are you even awake?”

“I had to go to the bathroom.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“You can join our wonderful conversation here,” Prussia mutters, having no idea what else to say.

Hong Kong gives a sharp laugh and stands up.

He frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

Prussia is tired and irritated, especially now that Spain’s here. His thumb is bothering him again too, so without thinking, he spits out, “Wow, you’re great at communication; you know that? No wonder your relationship with England is stellar.”

Hong Kong’s expression becomes livid.

Prussia can’t stop himself. It’s almost like a release. “Maybe your lack of communication skills is also why you couldn’t even pick up on Taiwan’s sexuality. Watch yourself, if you continue acting like an ass with no capacity for emotion, South Korea won’t want anything to do with—”

Hong Kong chucks his mug at Prussia’s head.

Spain snaps when it narrowly misses him and shatters against the wall. He fucking snaps. His eyes turn red, and he starts screaming at Hong Kong, who’s looking more and more terrified as he backs up.

“Antonio!” Prussia tries to interject, his heart beating rapidly in his throat. He realizes he’s standing. “Antonio, calm down!”

Hong Kong’s now pressed against the wall. Spain is cornering him.

“Antonio,” Prussia says more desperately. “He didn’t mean it!”

Spain puts Hong Kong in a chokehold.

Prussia exerts what little strength he has and rips him away, knocking him to the ground as Hong Kong gasps for air.

There are people running down the stairs when Prussia backs up.

“What the fuck?” Russia says as he and China barge into the kitchen.

China runs over to Hong Kong. “Kha Loung, are you okay?”

He’s near tears.

Prussia’s shoulder is hurting. He stoops down by Spain just as Taiwan sprints in.

“Antonio,” he hisses. He tries to say something else, but the words die in his throat.

Spain is utterly dazed. “He could have hurt you.”

“He didn’t, though.”

“But…”

France runs over to them as everyone else comes into the kitchen. “What happened!?”

Prussia doesn’t really know the answer to that question.

“I said something to Hong Kong,” he eventually forces out as England and Canada walk over. Hong Kong is crying now. “Which pissed him off, so he threw a mug at me, and Antonio snapped.”

“Sorry,” Spain mumbles, his eyes finally fading back to a normal color.

England’s voice is strained. “Here, let’s go to another room.” He then blinks. “Gilbert, should you really be walking around?”

Prussia stares at the coffee stain on the wall. “Can we not focus on my issues for, like, five minutes?”

“He almost hurt you,” Spain keeps mumbling.

France and England hoist him up; then take him to the living room while Canada and Prussia trail behind. Everyone else stays in the kitchen, though most have backed away from Hong Kong now to give him some space.

France and England guide Spain to the couch.

“I don’t want you to die,” he mumbles after a bit.

Prussia sits next to him. “I’m sorry.”

He starts crying.

* * *

 

Eventually, Spain awkwardly apologizes to Hong Kong, and Hong Kong mumbles back one to Prussia in return. It’s weird and uncomfortable.

They’re all in the living room now at the ungodly hour of 4 AM, watching a polar bear documentary that Canada seems really into.

Everyone else is zoning out until South Korea abruptly stands up.

Hong Kong, who was sitting next to him on the couch, frowns. “What are you doing?”

He’s frozen.

“Are you going to move or what?” Russia mutters since South Korea is now in his personal space. He and China are in front of the couch.

He still doesn’t move.

America looks at him from where he and Japan are crammed into an armchair. “Yong-Soo—”

He breaks off. Japan also freezes.

“The fuck is wrong?” Russia asks.

Prussia suddenly has a feeling of dread.

“Yong-Soo,” China demands.

His eyes turn bright red as a gash appears on his cheek.

America jerks forward and thrusts both him and Japan away from China and Russia before anyone can say anything.

China has lost all composure. “What’s happening!?” he demands, his eyes also turning red. “I can’t see anything. What’s happening!?”

“Yong-Soo,” Hong Kong chokes out, trying to move closer, but America blocks him.

South Korea sounds hysterical as Japan’s face gets paler. “They’re—They’re—”

America takes them both out of the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON!?” China screams.

They don’t respond.

“Do you two see anything!?” China demands Hong Kong and Taiwan. Taiwan vigorously shakes her head. Hong Kong’s eyes are wild.

China turns to Russia. “Ivan—”

“I don’t see anything either.”

“There was a joint military exercise today,” Canada suddenly blurts out. “In South Korean waters. I remember hearing that on the news.”

China pulls at his hair. “No, North Korea wouldn’t—”

“They wouldn’t launch an attack, right?” Hong Kong blurts out, now seeming hysterical.

“They’re not going to,” Russia says, clearly trying to stay rational. He’s looking more and more stressed by the second, though.

“But—”

Some cars pull into a screeching stop in front of the house.

People then flood in and take South Korea, Japan, America, Russia, and China away, answering no questions, leaving the rest of them stranded there without so much as even acknowledging them.

Prussia’s left with England, Spain, and France hovering over him while Hong Kong has a mental break down.

He hates this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /


	20. VIII. Palestine & Kazimir

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۰۹)

_9 May 2015_

“Excuse me?” Dalia demands in Russian.

Juhaina is frozen.

“She’s had _no_ training, and you want—”

“My decision is final,” Kazimir interrupts.

Dalia opens her mouth to keep arguing, but Kyrgyzstan beats her to it. “What the fuck!?”

Kazakhstan touches her shoulder. She shakes it off.

“I must second that notion,” Croatia adds on, her voice robotic and calm. “We already have the plan laid out, and those going to Switzerland are leaving in two days time. This decision is not logical.”

“The Nation is right,” a woman says. Juhaina doesn’t know who she is. She’s only seen glimpses of her before. “Kazimir—”

“I need to make sure that Robert will be able to escape!” 

Everyone flinches.

Juhaina doesn’t even know who ‘Robert’ is.

“It’s not just her—I’m sending six other Nations too. After reassessing the plan, I found faults in it. We need more people on the inside who are guaranteed not to die.”

The woman narrows her eyes.

“She’ll accompany Israel and Kazakhstan to help escort Robert safely out of the building. I’m getting all of them passports prepared and am working out the minor details. Don’t worry about it.”

Juhaina can barely breathe.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kazakhstan whispers behind her. “We’ll work together.”

“You’re dismissed,” Kazimir mutters, staring at a pager on his desk.

Dalia is clenching her jaw. She grabs Juhaina’s arm and pulls her out of the room, shoving through the other people gathered there. Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, and Kazakhstan follow them.

“Israel, calm down,” Mongolia says once they’re in the hallway.

“CALM DOWN?” Dalia shouts, dropping Juhaina’s arm. “WHY SHOULD I—”

“I thought you were supposed to be the level-headed one.”

Juhaina still can’t catch her breath.

“He’s just sending her—I get it he wants more immortal people.” Dalia is clenching her fists. “But _fuck_. She’s a liability since she’s had no training!”

Juhaina squeezes her eyes shut. “Thanks.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she rushes out, touching her back.

There’s a long pause.

“Let’s go to someone’s room,” Kazakhstan suggests quietly.

Kyrgyzstan mutters to herself, but they end up in Juhaina and Dalia’s since it’s the closest.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Kazakhstan says once Juhaina has calmed down. They’re all crammed on the bed. “Kyrgyzstan will first teach you how to shoot a gun.”

“I never agreed—”

“Kyrgyzstan or Mongolia will teach you how to shoot so you can at least defend yourself if anything happens. But here’s the thing; you’re going to be with Israel and me, and the two of us are supposed to stay far away from combat, so hopefully, you won’t even have to touch a gun.”

“I—I don’t know the plan, though,” Juhaina mutters miserably.

“Then we’ll give you a rundown,” Mongolia says, seeming bored. “A group of us are leaving in two days on the 11th. We’ll be driving to Turkey, getting into the country using fake British passports, spending two days there, and then traveling through Europe to get to Switzerland. We should arrive at a safe house by the 15th. On the 20th, we attack the UN building and then hightail out of there back to Palestine with whoever Robert is.”

“He’s a friend of Kazimir’s who’s been supplying us information,” Kazakhstan mumbles.

“Alright, there you go. There are different groups, and everyone has a certain role. Since you’ll be palling around with Israel and Kazakhstan, you’ll have to deal with Kyrgyzstan and I as well. The five of us will be located in the assembly hall’s lobby. Mostly everyone else will be concentrated south of us in the council chamber.

“Kyrgyzstan and I have the pleasure of setting off bombs and causing a distraction so you, Israel, and Kazakhstan can fetch Robert. He should be meeting you in the lobby, and once he’s with us, we’ll all escape through a garage where some insiders will be waiting to help.”

“What’s even the point of this?” Juhaina mumbles.

“To cause chaos,” Kyrgyzstan says like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And get revenge against the people who tortured us for years.”

She tastes bile. “Will that even solve anything?”

“We just need to put our heads down and get through this,” Dalia murmurs, rubbing her back again.

Juhaina sighs and leans into the touch.

* * *

 

They don’t have a proper indoor shooting range, so everyone’s been making do with a large empty room.

Mongolia throws Juhaina a handgun, and she almost drops it.

“Careful,” Dalia snaps at Mongolia.

She looks unbothered. “It’s not loaded. Chill.”

“She won’t even have a handgun. Kazimir will probably give her an assault rifle like the rest of us,” Kyrgyzstan mutters.

“Yeah, but we have to start small.”

Juhaina stares at the gun, her vision blurring away.

“Here, look at me,” Mongolia says, and her head jerks up. She’s holding another handgun, this one fully loaded.

She points it at a target on the far side of the room. “Watch.”

The noise is loud, and suddenly a wave of anxiety washes over Juhaina. She doesn’t even see whether Mongolia hit the target or not. Instead, all she can think of is being broken out of the compound. The bombs. Explosions.

Her mother exploding.

She can’t catch her breath. Mongolia’s face actually breaks out in concern, but her features blur away before Juhaina can think about it.

Dalia is instantly by her side, trying to soothe her, but it isn’t working.

Everything is too overwhelming.

“It was just one gunshot!” Kyrgyzstan exclaims.

_I don’t want to kill people. I don’t want to kill—_

“She can’t catch her breath; don’t joke around,” Dalia snaps. “Juhaina, it’s going to be okay,” she soothes. “It’s going to be—”

_I don’t want more people to die._

_I want to go home._

_I want to go to the beach._

_Samir. Dad. Uncle._

_Mom—_

* * *

 

(9 май 2015 года)

_9 May 2015_

The Israeli Nation is furious.

Kazimir’s in his office, at his desk. His hand is tucked inside an open drawer, resting on a gun filled with poison bullets.

“She heard a gunshot, then fainted!” Israel screams. “She can’t—Leave her here. She’ll just get in the way if she goes with us to Switzerland.”

Accompanying Israel is Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. Both are staring at the ground.

“Unfortunately, I’ve already had a passport prepared for her,” Kazimir says, lying. It will be ready tomorrow, but they don’t need to know that. “So she’ll be going.” He scrutinizes Israel. She was trustworthy, listened to orders in the beginning just like Kazakhstan.

Israel clenches her jaw.

“I picked you and Kazakhstan to escort Robert out of the building because I trust you two.

“After reviewing the plan, I’m worried about its success rate. That’s why I’m sending more Nations. That’s why I want Palestine to go with you, Israel. I chose her because you two are close. I thought it would be a good fit.”

Kyrgyzstan fidgets. “He has a point.”

“Shut up,” Israel hisses.

Kazimir frowns. “My decision is final,” he continues, running his fingers over the gun. “Please respect that.”

“I must agree with Israel, though, that it doesn’t make sense to be sending Palestine with us when she has had no prior training, barely knows what the plan is, and—” Kazakhstan flinches. “I’m sorry.”

Kazimir’s pager vibrates.

He ignores what she just said. “You three are dismissed.”

“Wait,” Israel spits out. “How—”

_“You three are dismissed!”_

“Let’s go,” Kyrgyzstan says quickly. “Let’s go.”

They leave, and Kazimir finally removes his hand from his gun. He then wheels himself over to his door and bolts it shut.

The pager vibrates again.

His heartbeat picks up. Robert hasn’t messaged him since he threatened suicide. This means he’s okay. He’s okay. He’s…

Kazimir realizes he hasn’t felt this way since Frank was alive. 

> > **Дата Вход** : 09.05.15 
> 
> **Robert** : I’m
> 
> **Robert** : I’m so sorry I just looked at the messages from last night
> 
> **Robert** : I was drunk.
> 
> **Robert** : I’m better now
> 
> **Robert** : Thank you for
> 
> **Robert** : .
> 
> **Robert** : I have no idea what I’m typing please respond
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I was just talking to some people. I apologize.
> 
> **Robert** : Oh. Okay. Yeah sorry for
> 
> **Robert** : fuck I pressed enter
> 
> **Robert** : let me tell you some updates. Let me do that
> 
> **Robert** : please
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : That is fine

Kazimir stares at his icon, overcome by a wave of emotions.  

> **Robert** : Well first off, someone just screamed something in Russian out in the hallway

He’s desperately trying to ignore everything he’s feeling now, but.  

> **Robert** : The first thing that happened today was Joseph going off on a rant about the food here. You should have seen him--knowing you, you would’ve laughed 

_Knowing me…_

Kazimir is so happy he feels like crying for a second.

He then hates himself. 

* * *

 

Juhaina’s mouth is dry.

“They’ll be in the building, so we’re to avoid them at all costs. But there’ll be multiple diversion teams that’ll keep them occupied, so don’t worry,” Kazakhstan explains calmly.

“They’re organized from most to least dangerous,” Mongolia adds on, sounding bored.

The headshots in front of her begin to blur.

“They’re all men,” she finally gets out.

Dalia touches her shoulder.

“Except that one woman,” Kyrgyzstan mumbles.

Juhaina stares at Taiwan’s picture. She’s at the bottom, classified as non-threatening.

The most threatening, meanwhile, is Russia. Then America. Then China.

“Why isn’t Prussia classified as anything?” Juhaina asks.

“According to Kazimir, he’s a wild card,” Dalia murmurs.

“What does that mean?”

No one answers her.  

* * *

 

“On the bright side, we get to go outside tomorrow!” Dalia attempts to say cheerily when they’re lying on their bed.

Juhaina’s back is to her, and she’s facing the wall.

“I’m afraid,” she eventually murmurs.

“I’m afraid too,” Dalia whispers. “But I’ll take care of you, and you’ll take care of me.”

Juhaina rolls over and faces her.

They make eye contact.

“I can’t lose you,” Juhaina forces out, feeling her chest clench. “I’m afraid something is going to happen, and you’ll get—something will—”

Dalia reaches out and touches her face.

“We’ll make it through this,” she says confidently.

“…”

“I promise.” She gives a weary smile. “After all, Kazimir chose us because we’re immortal.” 

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۱۱)

 _11 May 2015_  

The sensation of fresh air and sunlight is indescribable.

Juhaina’s practically vibrating when she sits down in the SUV.

“We’re going to be on the road for 20 hours to get to Istanbul,” the driver grunts. She looks tired. “With minimal stops, so be prepared.”

They don’t have much in the car besides a change of clothes and some food. The other supplies they need are apparently waiting for them in Geneva.

The long car ride isn’t daunting Juhaina at all. She’s just happy she can see the outside world. Hell, they’ll be driving through Gaza City.

 _Her_ city.

Dalia smiles. “You seem excited.”

“Dalia, Dalia—there’s the sun. Look, that’s the literal sun.”

Kyrgyzstan snickers a comment, but Juhaina ignores her and presses her face up against the window.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine it’s Samir next to her and her parents in the front seat. Soon they’ll be going to the beach…

* * *

   

> > **Дата Вход** : 11.05.15 
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Everyone has left Palestine--no issues. Things are running smoothly.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Is everything okay where you are?
> 
> **Robert** : Yeah.
> 
> **Robert** : The Nations are having a vacation today and are going horseback riding. Nothing exciting
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Do you have anything planned?
> 
> **Robert** : Me? No.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Do you want to talk for a bit?
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Not about the plan, I mean--just, with me.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I know you do not like the personal chatting, but
> 
> **Robert** : okay

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۱۲)

 _12 May 2015_  

Juhaina is practically skipping.

Dalia laughs. “Well, I see you’re having fun.”

“That’s because flea markets are the best! What, are you _not_ having fun?”

She gives her a fond smile. “I am because you are.”

“Stop flirting,” Kyrgyzstan says, but it has no bite. Besides the local clothes they’re wearing to fit in, she has on a huge pair of star-shaped sunglasses that she bought for three Turkish Lira.

Mongolia walks up next to her. She’s also wearing a pair, but hers are shaped like hearts. Kazakhstan is behind them, looking like she’s trying not to burst out into laughter.

They’re in Istanbul. The 20-hour car ride was brutal, and they ended up arriving around 4 AM this morning.

Juhaina still can’t believe she persuaded their ‘handlers’ to let them outside. Though the looming anxiety of what they’re going to do in Geneva is still present, she’s ignoring it for the time being.

“We should get matching stuff too!” she says cheerfully, nudging Dalia.

“Like what?”

“What about jewelry?”

* * *

 

“I really like the lockets,” Kazakhstan says, examining Dalia’s later that night. The three of them are in the basement of the safe house, which is where they’ll be sleeping.

They’re leaving Turkey tomorrow night. This time, the trip is going to take around 22 hours.

Juhaina’s not looking forward to it.

“Where’s Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan?” she asks after a bit. There’s a TV playing in the background, and the three of them are bunched together on a pullout couch. “They’ve been gone for a while.”

Kazakhstan shrugs. “I thought they were getting snacks.”

There’s a long pause.

Juhaina stands up. “I’ll go find them.” She knows she’s been getting up and down constantly, but she needs to keep herself busy.

“Bring some food down here if they’re not getting any,” Dalia says as she starts walking away.

Juhaina nods, taking two steps at a time.

_Innocent people are going to die soon._

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._

_You’re no better than mom._

_I need snacks. What snacks would Dalia like? What do we even have?_

_You’re no better than—_

Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan are talking in the kitchen.

Juhaina pauses. They don’t see her.

“I don’t know,” Kyrgyzstan spits out. “I trusted him. I believed in him! But this all feels—this entire idea is a mess. Palestine being with us doesn’t make any sense. Israel’s right; it doesn’t matter if she’s immortal. She’s a liability.”

“You’re having second thoughts.”

“You’re not!?”

Mongolia frowns. “No, I am. But I’ll listen to orders, no matter how ludicrous they are. Kazimir is the reason we’re free.”

“…”

“You’re acting like Palestine, right now, you know. Doubting everything.”

“I’m nothing like Palestine,” Kyrgyzstan sneers.

Mongolia blinks. Juhaina wonders if she should move or say anything.

“I’m nothing like her,” Kyrgyzstan repeats. “She has _memories_. She actually knows what her country is like. I don’t know anything about Kyrgyzstan!” She grips her hair. “She knows how to be more than just a stupid bounty hunter too. That’s all I am; that’s all I know how to do. How come she gets to be the real person! How come she gets to experience human things like family and romance! _What the fuck!_?”

Juhaina feels tongue-tied.

Mongolia frowns. “Are you actually jealous of Palestine having a _crush_?”

_What?_

“Yeah,” Kyrgyzstan mutters. “I am, alright? I just want… to be a normal girl, or something. I’d like to kiss someone once. That’d be nice.”

“You could kiss me,” Mongolia says, her face completely emotionless.

Juhaina’s eyes widen.

Now Kyrgyzstan seems completely flustered. “Why the—why would I want—what?”

Mongolia leans back on the counter. “Jeez, it was just a suggestion.”

Kyrgyzstan flushes. “I mean; if you want to…”

“Yeah. Sure.”

A pause.

Mongolia bursts out laughing. “I have no idea how to kiss someone.”

Kyrgyzstan relaxes. “Oh. Then we can both figure it out.”

Mongolia stands up straight and walks over, putting both of her hands on her shoulders.

Kyrgyzstan giggles. “Your expression is so serious.”

“I’m trying to figure out how to do this,” Mongolia defends.

She looks away. “I think we both have to lean in at the same time.”

“Do we close our eyes?”

“I guess?”

Juhaina stares as they begin to move, feeling like everything’s in slow motion.

Kyrgyzstan now looks nervous. “M-Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you not want to kiss me?”

“N-No, that’s not it. It’s just—”

Mongolia presses their lips together.

Juhaina can hear the ringing in her ears when Kyrgyzstan finally steps back. “I think we have to move our lips.”

All Mongolia’s response is. “Okay.”

Now that the initial awkward phase is over, Kyrgyzstan seems more confident. She and Mongolia get close again, and this time, she’s the one who initiates.

“Too much tongue!” Mongolia says a moment later, breaking away. She stays in Kyrgyzstan’s personal space, though.

Kyrgyzstan is frowning, but she looks determined. “Okay, then let me try this.”

They start to kiss again, and this time, don’t pull away immediately.

Juhaina feels everything get warm as Mongolia’s arms snake around Kyrgyzstan’s waist, and Kyrgyzstan makes a noise in the back of her throat, and Mongolia grips the folds—

She bolts.

Dalia studies her after she nearly trips down the stairs. “Where are the snacks?”

“And the other two?” Kazakhstan adds on.

Juhaina has no idea how to respond. She knows her face is bright red. “They’ll—They’ll be down in a bit!”

Dalia and Kyrgyzstan stare at her.

* * *

 

Five minutes later, Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan walk down holding a bag of chips, acting completely normal.

Juhaina can’t look at them. 

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۱۳)

 _13 May 2015_  

She wakes up at 1 AM after having a dream of kissing Dalia.

_Ah shit._


	21. North Korea

_2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _13_ _일_  

South Korea doesn’t even know what day it is.

He went right from Switzerland’s villa to multiple strategic meetings and was then flown back to Seoul, having his ear talked off the entire time.

It’s 9 PM now, supposedly.

He’s currently in a car, being driven back to his apartment. His Nation Advisor is next to him, though South Korea’s pretty sure she’s asleep.

He doesn’t know her name.

His cheek is also stinging. No one was killed on the ship North Korea launched a missile at, but it still hurts.

The only new thing he’s learned in the past twenty-four hours is that North Korea is now demanding a dialogue for whatever fucking reason. They just issued a statement saying that they won’t ‘engage in any more aggressive offensive combat’—whatever the hell that means—if they can meet with Japanese, American, and South Korean officials.

South Korea leans his head back and sighs. He just wants to crawl into bed and have everything be magically solved when he wakes up.

“We’re here,” the driver says.

It’s almost a relief to hear people speak Korean again.

South Korea’s Nation Advisor jerks awake. “Ah, okay. Let’s go, Mr. Im.”

He rubs his face and climbs out of the car.

“Get some rest,” she continues. “I’ll be here around eight tomorrow to pick you up.”

He walks inside without a second glance.

* * *

 

Hong Kong is backed up against a wall. Spain is choking him. South Korea can't do anything. He’s frozen. Something is holding him in place.

Suddenly there are Japanese officials. They’re grabbing Hong Kong. Hong Kong is screaming. South Korea can’t move. He can’t—

…

The dream blurs away, leaving him in a fitful slumber. 

* * *

   

> **메시지**  :
> 
>            [5:03]
> 
> > **曉** **梅** : Text Kha Loung and I when you can, and let us know if you’re all right

* * *

    

> **메시지**  :
> 
>            [5:04]
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : Don’t text me and Mei it’s fine just worry about yourself it’s fine

* * *

 

> **메시지**  :
> 
>            [5:05]
> 
> > **曉梅** : Again, text us, please 

* * *

  

 

> **메시지**  :
> 
>            [8:05]
> 
> > **Nguyen Lien** : Hey, I know we haven’t talked in a month since the incident, but I’ve been paying attention to the news and just wanted to make sure you were holding up okay.
> 
> > **Nguyen Lien** : Text me if you have the time

* * *

  

 

> **메시지**  :
> 
>            [8:05]
> 
> > **อนันตชัย หลีกภัย** : Lien and I were talking--I just wanted to tell you that you’re free to chat with me as well! Mei has been the only one messaging us since what happened, so it’d be nice to hear from you too

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _14_ _일_

Someone is pounding on South Korea’s bedroom door.

He stumbles out of bed, only to see his Nation Advisor standing in his hallway for whatever goddamn reason.

“It’s 8:00,” she blurts out. “We have to leave now!”

It takes South Korea a second to compute what she just said.

She continues. “We’re meeting with the President at the Blue House—”

He bolts to the bathroom. His cheek starts stinging, but he tries to ignore it as he chucks water onto his face.

“Yes. Yes. We’re on our way,” his Nation Advisor blatantly lies when he scrambles back to her. She’s by the front door now. “Yup, we’re in the car.” She and South Korea make eye contact. “Yup. I’ll talk to you later.” She hangs up.

“How long will this meeting last?” South Korea mutters.

“All day.”

He sighs.

* * *

 

He replies to his text messages while in the car.  

> **메시지**
> 
>   [李嘉龙 및 曉梅 와]:
> 
>            [지금]
> 
> > **임용수** : Im fine im in the car on the way to the Blue House for discussions. The immediate threat is over. I think. Alfred and Kiku will be flying out at some point--Idk and then eventually I think we’ll meet with Putin and Xi since the North is demanding a dialogue?
> 
> > **임용수** : ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> > **임용수** : I’ll let you know more once im done suffering through countless meetings

South Korea knows they’re asleep; or at least, he hopes so. It’s around 1 AM in Geneva.

> **메시지** :
> 
>   [Nguyen Lien 및 อนันตชัย หลีกภัย 와]:
> 
>   [지금]
> 
> > **임용수** : Hey, sorry I’ve been so distant--but with everything going on, it felt weird texting anyone. I’m fine rn--going to a meeting. I’ll tell you what I can once it’s finished

Just as he pockets his phone, it vibrates.     

> **메시지** :
> 
>   [지금]
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : Im glad you’re safe
> 
> > **임용수** : Kha Loung, go to bed
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : fuck you 

Despite everything, South Korea smiles.

* * *

 

People are waiting for them when they pull into the Blue House.

“Ms. Maeng, the President and her top cabinet members are waiting inside,” a security guard says after they step out. It takes South Korea a second to realize that he’s referring to his Nation Advisor.

Maeng nods. “Okay. Let’s go, Mr. Im.”

Each step they take only increases his anxiety.

“Ms. President,” Maeng blurts out as soon as they enter the meeting room, “sorry for our late arrival.”

South Korea’s cheek stings when Park gives them a dismissive look. “Take a seat. We have information and procedures to discuss.”

* * *

 

South Korea is two seconds away from falling asleep.

“In summary,” Park says. “The North Koreans shot a missile at an American ship during a joint training session between the two of us and Japan. They then issued a statement demanding a dialogue; and saying that if we engaged in one, they wouldn’t launch any further attacks. We are in full cooperation with the Americans and Japanese to end this conflict as quickly as possible. Also, the Chinese and Russians are offering their support—mainly because of the temporary military treaty we just signed together.

“The Chinese have informed us that they’re gathering intelligence to determine why the North Koreans are so desperate to have this dialogue. The information they uncover will hopefully help end this conflict promptly.

“The plan is to reach an agreement with the North Koreans and come to a quick compromise. For that reason, we’ll honor the North’s desire for a dialogue, regardless of whatever their intentions are. Since the Chinese and Russians have formal relations with the country, they’ll also be joining us for this session. We are still determining the date for it, but most likely it will happen in the next few days. Again, our countries are in full cooperation to end whatever this conflict may be.”

Grunts.

“The dialogue would be conducted through our Nation Avatars since North Korea is always adamant about doing procedures this way.”

South Korea has a headache.

“Wait,” the Prime Minister interrupts. “Can we really trust the Nation Avatar to do a proper negotiation?”

He squirms.

“My advisor explained—I don’t see why he and the others wouldn’t do one,” Park says. “It’s not like any of them want North Korea to act aggressively.”

“Can we even trust him anymore?” someone else spits out.

South Korea has been alive for a while, and he knows this is one of those moments where he stares at the table and pretends he’s a statue.

“If you have an issue or concern with our Nation Avatar, address it to me and my advisor privately,” Park says. The repeat mention of this advisor causes some people to frown. South Korea is too nauseous to care. “I’ve been receiving daily reports on his training performance in Geneva, and apparently he has been nothing but cooperative. However, we’re not focusing on that issue right now. Right now, we’re concerned with North Korea. Meeting dismissed.”

People begin to exit the room, but South Korea remains rooted in his seat.

“Mr. Im, I would like a word with you,” Park says when most have left. “Ms. Maeng, you stay as well.”

She nods, seeming anxious.

“Would you like security in the room with you, Ms. President?” an aide asks.

She shakes her head. “Just outside is fine.”

“I would suggest otherwise, especially after the…incident.”

“It’s fine. My advisor said this is the best course of action.”

The aide frowns.

“You won’t sabotage the summit meeting, right?” Park asks when everyone else is gone.

“Of course not,” South Korea mutters. “I want the best for the country.”

“I’m aware. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve been cooperative. My advisor thinks so too. She trusts you.”

“…”

“So I want to trust you too.” She sits up straight. “It makes things less complicated anyway. And I don’t want to restrict your freedoms. Doing so has a bad track record; as my advisor has pointed out.”

South Korea doesn’t respond.

“Please work with us to resolve these problems in the upcoming days. On another note, Ms. Maeng?”

She jumps. “Yes?”

“He looks disgusting. Before the summit meeting, I want him to have a haircut and put on makeup. Everyone needs to look their best.”

“O-Of course.”

“And I mean everyone. You look disgusting too.”

Maeng flinches.

“You have the agenda; get Mr. Im started on the policy reviews. He needs to be prepared for the 16th.”

“Will do, Ms. President…”

* * *

 

Maeng drops him off in front of his apartment at 11 PM.

“I’ll be picking you up at 6 AM,” she mumbles.

South Korea grunts.

He collapses on his bed as soon as he gets back to his apartment, groggily taking out his phone after it vibrates. 

> **메시지** :
> 
>   [지금]
> 
> > **李嘉龙** :
> 
>                

South Korea stares, not sure how he should talk to him now.    

> > **임용수** : Why
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : Oh I didn’t expect you to respond right away
> 
> > **임용수** : Why
> 
> > **李嘉龙** :
> 
>               
> 
> > **임용수** : Thanks
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : It’s white and gold
> 
> > **임용수** : It’s not shut the fuck up

South Korea throws his phone to the side, getting startled when it vibrates again. 

> > **李嘉龙** : You never texted us updates, but I assume your meetings are over now?
> 
> > **임용수** : Sorry, yeah, I just got home
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : You just got home?? Isn’t it 11 PM where you are??
> 
> > **임용수** : Yeah
> 
> > **임용수** : I’m low-key dead inside rn
> 
> > **임용수** : I’m getting picked up at 6 AM tomorrow morning
> 
> > **임용수** : but yeah everything went okay I guess--there’s a plan, and everything should work out. Idk, we’re following through with the dialogue thing, but more stuff will be finalized once we have a joint session with the US, Japan, Russia, and China
> 
> > **임용수** : So lmao don’t worry ;-)
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : You’re not lying, are you?
> 
> > **임용수** : About what?
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : being okay

South Korea closes his eyes, wondering what this even is between them now.

He then takes a selfie and puts an obnoxious filter over it.  

> > **임용수** : Here I am !!!!!!
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : You look tired
> 
> > **임용수** : I am Wide Awake!!!!
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : Go to bed
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : I’ll tell Mei you’re all right
> 
> > **임용수** : Thank you, my Sweet Prince!!
> 
> > **임용수** : fuck though, im really about to fall asleep. I’ll text you updates tomorrow. But anything I tell you will probably be on the news
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : Text me anyway
> 
> > **임용수** : Okay

* * *

 

“You didn’t do anything to help me,” Hong Kong sneers, his words echoing. South Korea doesn’t know where they are. “You let me be hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, his voice barely coming out. Everything around him is becoming distorted.

There are bruises on Hong Kong’s neck.

“You’re worthless!” he shouts. “No one likes you!”

South Korea is sobbing. “Stop.”

“Spain choking me is your fault!”

Suddenly Halim’s so-called niece is suddenly there, pointing at him, laughing.

…

South Korea rolls over.

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _15_ _일_  

The day is a blur.

He gets back to his apartment at 11 PM again, his Nation Advisor dully informing him that she’ll be picking him up tomorrow at 6.

Despite his anxiety, he texts both Hong Kong and Taiwan.   

> **메시지**
> 
>   [李嘉龙 및 曉梅 와]:
> 
>            [지금]
> 
> >임용수: Hey, I just got back to my apartment. Nothing thrilling happened today--just reviewed policy briefs and shit. Tomorrow is a joint summit meeting between us and the other four. All the head leaders are going to be there. I’m dreading it
> 
> > **曉梅** : Good luck! I’m sure everything will work out!!
> 
> > **임용수** : Well, aren’t you being aggressively positive
> 
> > **曉梅** : (*^▽^*)
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : (΄◞ิ౪◟ิ‵)
> 
> > **임용수** : thanks for your thrilling contribution, Kha Loung
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : (΄◞ิ౪◟ิ‵)
> 
> > **李嘉龙** : good luck though
> 
> > **임용수** : thanks
> 
> > **임용수** : im gonna take a shower now-- have fun lounging around the house 

He wants to text Hong Kong some more, but he resists the urge and turns off his phone. 

* * *

 

“No one likes you!” Hong Kong screams. “I don’t like you! You’re just projecting your own feelings onto me! Fuck off!”

…

South Korea grips his blankets.

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _16_ _일_  

He’s in a suit, his face is caked with concealer and foundation, and he’s about two seconds away from falling asleep as he stands outside, waiting for the Americans to get out of their jet.

South Korea fidgets. Barack Obama is the first off.

America is the second.

Even from far away, they make eye contact. He doesn’t look haggard or anything, so South Korea’s anxiety eases slightly.

“President Obama, it is a pleasure to see you,” Park greets in English when he comes closer, extending her hand. Her English isn’t great, but she’s able to sustain simple enough conversations.

Obama takes her hand and smiles warmly. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, President Park. I hope we’ll be able to work everything out today.”

“Yes. That is the plan.”

“Ms. President, we just received word that the Japanese delegation should be arriving in five minutes,” an aide rushes out in Korean.

“Alright, then we should…”

Obama pats America’s back, causing South Korea’s attention to shift. “You’re allowed to talk to your friend!” he says cheerfully.

“Hey,” South Korea mumbles as America shuffles over.

He sighs. “Hey.”

“I’m so tired.”

“At least you’re not jet lagged. I don’t even know what day it is.”

“Did you go back to D.C.?”

“Yeah, I was there for a day, but my past twenty-four hours have been non-stop traveling.”

“Ew.”

Everyone is making simple enough small talk, mostly in English, though a few Americans do know some Korean, and the atmosphere isn’t too bad.

That changes when the Japanese arrive.

Suddenly South Korea can feel Japan’s presence as their plane pulls up, like he’s poking America to make sure he’s there. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from making a comment when America projects his back.

A set of stairs is then attached to the jet, and after a red carpet is rolled out the Japanese delegation exits.

The South Koreans bow. The Japanese bow back. It’s tense, considering president Park and Prime Minister Abe haven’t even met in person yet, despite both being in office for multiple years.

Japan immediately makes a beeline for America once greetings are exchanged.

“How are you doing?” he rushes out when he’s within earshot.

America forces out a smile. “Despite my jet lag, I’m fine.”

Japan frowns. “You’ve been treated well, right?”

“…Yeah.”

He lets out a sigh. “Good.”

They stare at each other. America’s hands twitch like he wants to touch him. Japan is biting his lip.

“We will now be flying back to the Blue House,” Park announces before South Korea can say anything. “The three of us, plus our Nation Avatars, will be traveling together.”

He closes his eyes.

* * *

 

The meeting passes quickly, at least.

All three leaders are on the same page for once, and it’s decided that a dialogue needs to happen ASAP so they can solve this problem; then go back to worrying about Kazimir.

They end up agreeing to have it on the 18th.

 _“This way the meeting scheduled in Geneva on the 20 th can continue as planned_,” Obama said.

South Korea rubs his face.

The only thing that’s bothering him is that no one knows why North Korea felt the need to launch an attack and are suddenly so desperate to have this stupid dialogue.

But whatever. North Korea’s foreign policy has never made any sense.

Right now it’s around 11:30. A couple of minutes ago, someone informed them that the Russians and Chinese would be arriving soon. Their delegations will be coming directly to the Blue House, so there’s no need to greet them at the airport.

South Korea fidgets. He, Japan, and America didn’t speak at all during the meeting; they just sat there as figureheads.

“I think the Nations should have a break while we wait for the other delegations,” Obama says when they enter the hallway.

South Korea nearly cries.

Park nods. “Yes. A break is good,” she says in English. “Take them to that meeting room,” she then mutters to a Korean security guard.

There’s a plush chair inside that America immediately flops down on. Japan’s expression is suddenly so fond that South Korea has to restrain himself from making a comment.

_You’re finally alone. Suck it up._

“I want to go to bed,” America moans.

Japan sits next to him. “Take a nap

“Now that I’m with you, though, I’ll be so calm I won’t be able to wake up.”

Japan’s face gets soft as he brushes America’s hair out of his face, and South Korea sits down near them, mentally cursing himself out for forgetting his phone at home.

He wonders what Hong Kong is doing.

* * *

 

It’s tense again.

Everyone in the Chinese and Russian delegations looks tense. South Korea is standing off to the side with Russia and China as their leaders greet each other.

He fidgets, noticing Russia scratch furiously at a spot behind his ear. The three of them haven’t even made eye contact yet.

“Let’s go inside. The American and Japanese delegations are waiting,” Park eventually announces in Korean.

South Korea looks at Russia. He’s still scratching that spot.

* * *

 

After an uncomfortable exchange of greetings, everyone heads to the meeting room.

Each Nation takes a seat next to their leaders at the ovular table in the center. Everyone else, including security guards and whatever government officials their country wants in the room, is forced to awkwardly hover in the background.

Park starts the meeting off.

“Again, thank you for attending. I will first provide a summary of what I discussed with President Obama and Prime Minister Abe prior. Following, a summary of your session, President Putin and President Xi, would be most appreciated.”

Nods.

Park begins.  

* * *

 

South Korea is at the point where he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep his head from drooping.

“We do not know why the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea has engaged in what they name ‘aggressive offensive combat,’” Xi drones on, “but our inside sources have indicated they were possibly bribed. By what we don’t…”

South Korea stares at the table. It’s a nice mahogany.

“However, regardless of the cause of their aggression, The People’s Republic of China and Russian Federation are willing to help end this conflict. Though a military demonstration by your three countries could constitute a threat to area sovereignty…”

He thinks about Hong Kong again. He probably shouldn’t do that; now his stomach is upset.

“…honor the temporary short-term military treaty we have set up and work in cooperation with your three countries to find a solution. We believe, like you said, that a dialogue between our five countries and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea as soon as possible would be the best approach. Speaking for myself, I also think the 18th is a good date. What about you, President Putin?”

“The 18th is fine.”

“Perfect.”

“One day should be enough to prepare, I think,” Park says. “That’s what _my advisor_ …”

South Korea has to mentally collect himself for a moment.

“…gather the necessary information we want our Nations to relay by tonight, and have them memorize it tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Xi says after the translation delay.

“We will offer our full cooperation if everyone else is in agreement,” Obama adds on, sitting up straight. “There is a more important matter for the Nations to get back to.”

Putin looks like he just swallowed bile.

“Since the Russians are mostly handling the affairs of tracking Gorelov and his following, I must ask, President Putin, how close do you think we are to finding him?” Abe has the gall to ask.

“There are no new leads.”

Well, that’s the end of that conversation.

“I think we should proceed with the rest of the discussion without the Nation Avatars present,” Park announces after an uncomfortable pause. “They can stay in Mr. Im’s apartment and then be picked up tomorrow.”

First, South Korea isn’t sure the other leaders even know his name, so that’s awkward. Second, his apartment only has one bed. Third, Putin is looking at Park like she has three heads.

Putin frowns. “We will keep our Nation Avatar with the Russian delegation.”

“I believe it would be best for him to stay with everyone in Mr. Im’s apartment.”

Russia projects his presence at South Korea like he’s telling him to tell his leader to shut the fuck up.

“And why do you believe that would be best?” Putin nearly spits after the translation delay.

“Restricting a Nation’s freedoms doesn’t have the best track record, Mr. Putin. Look where that’s led us.”

South Korea swallows, staring at the table again.

“I agree with President Park,” Obama eventually says. “Let them rest for the remainder of the day.”

“…Fine,” Putin grumbles.

“Prime Minister Abe and President Xi, are you also in agreement?” Park asks.

They both nod.

“Perfect. I’ll have my aides escort them out now.”

* * *

 

They’re practically dumped outside of South Korea’s apartment in Gangnam.

They all stand there in silence and confusion as the car speeds away. They didn’t even talk to each other on the ride over.

“Um?” South Korea says first.

Russia finally seems to relax, and China’s vacant expression from being around his officials fades.

Japan frowns. “When are they even picking us up tomorrow?”

“Good…question.”

A few businessmen shove past them.

“Let’s go inside,” South Korea mumbles.

“Your apartment isn’t bugged, right?” Russia asks on the elevator. The old woman with them shuffles to the corner.

Maeng is the only one in charge of his day-to-day stuff, and he really doesn’t think she’s competent enough to install or manage something like that. It’s not like his government has ever felt the need to monitor him like this either; he’s never acted against _them_ , even when it was a fucking military dictatorship. And Park seems to trust him—

“Is your apartment bugged?” Russia repeats when the woman gets off three floors below them.

South Korea swallows. “No.”

“None of us have our suitcases,” America mumbles when they arrive at the floor. “Are we just supposed to use your stuff?”

“If we are, then that sucks because most of my things are still in Geneva.”

He mumbles a complaint to Japan about not having his medicine as South Korea gets his key out. He sees Russia scratch that spot again. China is staring at him.

As soon as he gets the door open, Japan and America quickly kick off their shoes and head inside. The apartment is situated so that there’s a small hallway jutting off from the front door, which is then connected to a living room/kitchen area.

There’s an L-shaped couch in there, facing a flat-screen TV. Off in the corner is a desk where South Korea’s gaming computer is. There are also various bookshelves that blatantly don’t have books on them.

From the living room is another small hallway where there are a bathroom and a bedroom attached. The bedroom is modestly sized, South Korea’s king bed just barely fitting in it, so he really doesn’t know how they’re going to work out the sleeping situation.

He’s not sleeping on the couch either, dammit.

“Ivan,” China murmurs when Russia scratches his neck again.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Russia says as a response.

South Korea frowns. “In that hall.”

“Ivan,” China repeats.

“I’m just going piss.”

China stands there with a pensive expression after he walks away.

“Are you okay?” South Korea murmurs after a pause. He gathers their shoes together as Japan and America turn on the TV.

China’s expression breaks. “I think Ivan was treated poorly.”

“…”

“Whenever he starts acting like this; something’s happened. He always isolates himself because he doesn’t want to be ‘a burden’ or some shit too, and—” he takes a deep breath.

South Korea frowns. “Were you treated okay?”

His expression is blank now. “Yeah.”

They walk further into the apartment, over to where Japan and America are sitting.

“I don’t know what’s worse, Korean or Swiss TV,” Japan mutters.

South Korea glares at him. “I’m actually offended.”

China is too out of it to mediate, and he collapses on the couch, hanging his head back.

“There are bad TV shows from any country,” America says half-heartedly.

Japan grunts. South Korea sits down next to China.

After a few minutes, there’s a crash from the bathroom.

“Ivan!?” China yells, sprinting over. He starts to open the door, but Russia forces it closed.

“Don’t come in.”

“Ivan, what the fuck!?”

“I’ll be—I’ll be done in a second.”

China is getting more and more frantic. “Let me in!”

America stands up and walks over to the bathroom door.

“Fuck, Alfred, I can feel your presence. Go away,” Russia hisses.

Japan mutes the TV.

“Ivan, we’re going to force down the door if you don’t come out,” America responds, his fingers twitching.

“Please don’t break it,” South Korea mutters, feeling light-headed.

The bathroom door opens.

“WHY IS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD?” China practically screeches, completely losing his cool.

“I had to get a tracking device out.”

“TRACKING DEVICE?”

America backs up, his expression blank.

“WHY DID THEY PUT A TRACKING DEVICE IN YOUR NECK?” China demands, disappearing out of South Korea’s line of sight.

“I don’t—ow!”

“You picked it out using a razor!? Of course—why isn’t it healing?”

“Fuck, I don’t—ow!”

“There’s still debris—shit, here.”

Japan stares at America worryingly as he shuffles back to the couch. “Are you okay?”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

“Alfred—”

He forces out a laugh. “There’s a lot of blood in there…”

South Korea stands up to assess the damage just as America buries his face into Japan’s shoulder.

There really is blood everywhere. It looks like a murder scene.

“Jesus, did you nick a vein?” he asks.

Russia is on the toilet while China is cleaning out his cut.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Sorry. I’ll clean this up.”

“No,” China hisses. “I will. You need to rest.”

“I don’t—fuck! Be more careful!”

“I’m not the one who attacked my neck with a razor. Just going to piss, my ass.”

“Ow!”

South Korea watches as China finishes cleaning the wound. The broken chip that was once embedded in Russia’s neck is now in pieces on the counter. He pushes them into the trashcan.

As soon as the cut is cleaned out, it heals almost immediately.

The TV is on again. South Korea can hear it in the background.

“What was that crashing sound?” he asks. “From earlier.”

Russia frowns. “I nicked my vein since they put the chip there on purpose; then lost my balance and fell into the sink.”

South Korea glances over there. It’s covered in blood splatters.

“I could have—I could have helped you,” China mutters, still bending over Russia’s figure.

He stares at the ground. “What, perform surgery on my neck?”

“What else did they do to you?”

“…”

“Ivan—”

“Nothing I can’t handle. It’s fine, Yao.”

“It’s not fine!” China shrieks. “It’s not…fuck.”

Russia reaches out and cups his face, and China closes his eyes and leans in, touching their foreheads together.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Russia whispers. “It was only two days but…”

China kisses him.

“Not to kill the mood, but this entire bathroom is covered in blood,” South Korea deadpans after Russia’s eyes flutter shut. His hands are already tangled in China’s hair.

They stop kissing.

“You always have to be such a cock block,” Russia mutters.

China moves away. “Is anyone going to be angry that you extracted the tracking device?” he asks, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat.

Russia bites his lip. “Probably. But they can’t do anything about it now, and I didn’t want them stalking me.”

China sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Go sit on the couch. I’ll clean up in here.”

“I can help.”

“Go sit on the fucking couch.”

Russia nearly loses his balance when he stands up, and China has to steady him. He then watches in concern as Russia stumbles out of the room.

“You look like you just murdered someone,” South Korea hears Japan mutter. “Take off your shirt.”

He stops paying attention when glancing at the mess around him.

China seems to deflate. “Do you have bleach?”

“Yeah…”

* * *

 

It’s 6 PM, and they’re all vegging out on the couch.

America is asleep; his face pressed into Japan’s shoulder as he flips relentlessly through all the channels. On the opposite end, China is practically in Russia’s lap.

South Korea is in the middle.

He played candy crush on his phone for a solid hour, but now he’s bored. At one point, he considered texting Hong Kong or Taiwan, but he just doesn’t have the energy to sustain a conversation with them right now or deal with any of his feelings.

China turns his head after Russia shifts. “Is your leg falling asleep?”

“Kind of. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll move.”

“You don’t have to—”

China scoots off of him; then looks at South Korea’s wall clock. “We should get dinner soon.”

Oh, right. Food.

They didn’t even have lunch.

“Can we get takeout?” Japan mumbles, still staring at the TV.

“I could pick something up,” South Korea offers. He feels a little restless and wouldn’t mind going somewhere.

“I can come with you,” China says.

“Alright. Should we leave now?”

Japan doesn’t even look at him. “Yeah. I’m getting hungry.”

South Korea is about to argue but stops after America suddenly jerks. Now Japan looks 100% emotionally invested. Everyone holds their breath, waiting for him to wake up from a nightmare, but he seems to calm down and remains asleep.

South Korea sighs and stands up as Japan absentmindedly rubs circles into his skin.

“I could come too,” Russia murmurs.

“You don’t have a shirt, and none of Yong-Soo’s will fit you.”

He frowns.

China stands up. “We’ll be quick.”

South Korea grabs his apartment keys and phone, and he and China head out.

“The more time passes, the more I doubt our Nation advisors are coming with our suitcases,” China mutters when they’re waiting for the elevator.

South Korea frowns. “We could buy some clothing for you guys.”

“…Yeah. We should probably get ourselves toothbrushes too.”

The elevator arrives, and they shuffle into it, heading outside after it reaches the lobby.

“Where are we getting food?” China asks.

South Korea shrugs.

“We should probably go shopping for clothes first, so we’re not carrying the food around with us.”

“We can get everything at a nearby mall.”

“How far is it?”

South Korea thinks. “Like fifteen minutes away.”

“Alright.”

They’re silent as they start walking, but it isn’t uncomfortable. South Korea gets absorbed in his own thoughts anyway.

_Was North Korea really bribed, or was Xi just bullshitting that? Maybe I should have paid attention._

He starts feeling nauseous.

_Stop. This situation will be resolved soon, and then you’ll be going back to Geneva. Sure, the Nation Army training will resume, but you’ll see Kha Loung._

He shakes his head, now frazzled.

China grabs the back of his shirt.

“Hey—”

“Please don’t walk into oncoming traffic,” he says in Korean.

South Korea laughs sheepishly as a car whirls past them. “Oops.”

“You can thank Hyeongnim for watching over you.”

“Shut up.”

The traffic signal changes, and people start funneling across the street.

“You…don’t call me Hyeongnim anymore,” China says after they make it to the other side.

South Korea blinks. “I stopped after the road trip.”

“Why?”

He chews his lip. “I don’t know; because it felt like, by calling you that, I was hanging onto the past.” _So fuck you Kiku, I’m not completely obsessive._ “I realized it was time to move on.”

“I suppose I can understand that sentiment,” China murmurs.

“Besides, you have new ‘siblings’ now.”

“I wouldn’t consider Mei, Kha Loung, or Chiu to be siblings of mine, but okay.”

South Korea chuckles. They keep walking.

“…Have you talked to Kha Loung at all?” China asks after a bit.

South Korea feels that anxiety blossom in his stomach again. “I texted him for a little bit.”

“…”

“What about you?”

“No. My texts are monitored.”

South Korea side-eyes him. “Why are you asking?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Like, why specifically him and not Mei?”

“Yong-Soo, he likes you.”

South Korea runs into a pole.

Passerbys give them strange looks as China bursts into laughter.

South Korea’s face is hot. He tries to come up with a response, but his thoughts are too jumbled.

_He—what—I’m just projecting—_

When China finally calms down, South Korea gets out, “He’s straight.”

_“I’m pretty sure he’s not, but okay.”_

_“He literally said he was.”_

_“Okay, but I thought I was too until two hours ago, so.”_

“And he still has a crush on Mei, and—”

_“I really do think Kha Loung likes you,” Taiwan whispered._

“Yong-Soo,” China interrupts.

South Korea swallows.

He switches back to Mandarin. “Do you like him?”

The world seems to slow down.

South Korea feels like someone is squeezing his chest. “I’m not sure.”

“You know I’ll support you two.”

“…Thank you, Hyeongnim.”

China rubs his shoulder.

* * *

 

It’s after they exit a convenience store that South Korea notices a shop selling liquor.

“We should get some,” he says jokingly, fully expecting China to say no.

He doesn’t. 

* * *

 

“You bought booze,” America deadpans.

“We got food too,” South Korea defends. “And toothbrushes. And clothing. So ha, now you won’t have to wear dirty underwear.”

America rubs his face. “I would have liked my suitcase to be here by now.”

Japan is rummaging through the shopping bags. “You seemed to sleep fine without your meds, though.”

“Only because I’m utterly jet-lagged.”

“Could you not have gotten any normal shirts,” Russia mutters, staring at all of them.

South Korea and China did go out of their way to find weird ones.

China gives a shit-eating grin and rubs his back. “What, you don’t like them?”

Russia holds up one. It’s in English, and it says ‘try my delicious salt beef.’

“You could wear the Spongebob shirt instead,” South Korea suggests, smirking.

Russia’s face scrunches up. “I’m not wearing an American cartoon character.”

America seems insulted. “Screw you; Spongebob is the best.”

They open up the food and spread it out on the coffee table in front of the couch. And after consuming some of it, it’s Russia who brings over the bag filled with cheap liquor.

South Korea grabs a beer bottle.

He just wants to forget all his fears about North Korea and the Nation Army for a bit, have his anxiety go away.

Forget his feelings. 

* * *

 

Everything is fuzzy.

South Korea doesn’t know how much alcohol he’s consumed.

He knows he’s drunk, though. Not blackout drunk. Nah…

He giggles.

His face is hot, and he knows it’s bright red. Japan’s face is also bright red, look at that! America is telling some sort of story. South Korea tried paying attention at one point but zoned out. Japan, though, is curled against him, both of them looking enamored.

Both mutually in love!

See, South Korea would feel bitter, but nothing matters right now! Everything is too fuzzy!

Being drunk is great!

He suddenly has to pee and tries to stand up. But in doing so, he nearly trips on the edge of the coffee table.

 _Fuck_.

America looks at him, only seeming slightly tipsy. “You okay?”

“Fine,” South Korea slurs. “Just gotta—just gotta pee!”

America nods as Japan drapes himself over him. “Ignore Yong-Soo,” he almost whines. “What did you say next?”

America quickly loses interest in South Korea. “Oh, right! I—”

He stumbles to the bathroom and pauses when he peers into his room.

Russia and China are on his bed.

He finds himself charging inside. “You two better not be fucking.”

“Well, aren’t you shitfaced,” Russia mumbles.

“Yong-Soo, how many beers have you had?” China asks, standing up. South Korea notices that the TV is on. On his nightstand are two empty beer bottles.

Meanwhile, in the living room, there are, like, twenty empty ones.

Maybe more!

He giggles to himself. He and Japan drank a lot.

China approaches him, and South Korea suddenly forgets why he’s in the room. He remembers he has to pee and turns around.

“Wait—”

South Korea shuts the bathroom door.

It still smells like bleach.  _Ew_.

He takes a leak.

He then notices his phone on the sink counter. He can’t remember when he left it, but there it is!

He presses the home button. The time flashes at him—10 PM.

He giggles, suddenly feeling impulsive, and goes through his contacts.

Oh, there’s Hong Kong’s name.

 _Kha Loung_.

Hong Kong probably hates him. They should talk about that.

Because, who wouldn’t hate him!? Who wouldn’t hate a guy projecting his feelings onto someone who clearly doesn’t return them!

Hah…

“Yong-Soo?” Hong Kong asks from the other line after South Korea dials him. He sounds out of breath. “Are you okay?”’

“Kha Loung!” he slurs.

“…Are you drunk?”

“No,” he defends.

Hong Kong sighs. “…Why are you calling?”

South Korea has no filter. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

“O-Oh.”

“Yao was—he was talking today, and I thought of you.” He laughs. “I’m always thinking about you nowadays!”

“Uh.”

“What Spain did to you; this whole thing with North Korea has been a great distraction, but now I’m thinking about it again. When I saw you crying —man, why does that keep repeating in my dreams? Why does you being hurt always haunt me in my dreams now? Oh my God, this bathroom smells like bleach. Ivan got blood everywhere earlier.” He giggles.

“I think you should hang up,” Hong Kong gets out.

“But I wanna talk to you,” South Korea whines. “I meant to text you today, but I was just too tired.”

“That’s fine. Go to—”

“Yao said you liked me.”

Hong Kong’s voice breaks.

“But that’s just wishful thinking, right?” South Korea mutters. “You like Mei instead. It sucks she doesn’t like you back.”

He doesn’t respond.

“I mean, it’s not like you even have a reason to like me either! I’m _unlikable_! I’m annoying!” South Korea laughs. “

Hong Kong’s voice sounds strangled. “You—wait, I don’t. I don’t hate you.”

“Why? It’s because of me that you’re emotionally fucked up. Ever since that conversation with Kiku—I caused you—I put you in pain because I was afraid to look at you! And I hate myself for liking you because I’m—I’m just fucking you over! But even so, I still pathetically want—” He laughs miserably. “I don’t know.”

“You have feelings for me?”

South Korea’s annoyed. Why does he sound like he’s about to cry? It’s him who should be crying. “Yeah. I just told you that.” Why is he in the bathroom again too? It smells like bleach.

“I think you should hang up,” Hong Kong gets out. His voice is weird.

South Korea fumbles with the doorknob. “What, you hate talking to me that much; just like everyone else? All I do is make people hate me. It makes sense. I hate myself.”

“No! You—” Hong Kong groans. “You’re drunk. You wouldn’t be saying these things if you weren’t.”

“Kha Loung, who are you talking to?” Taiwan asks in the background.

Hong Kong makes a noise, and South Korea hears his phone drop.

When he finally gets the door open, Russia and China are standing there.

“Mei, please, go away,” Hong Kong rushes out, his voice muffled.

“What’s wrong?” she responds, hers even more distant.

China looks concerned. “Yong-Soo, no one hates you.”

South Korea slumps against the door and laughs.

“Yong-Soo is drunk,” Hong Kong says in the background. “Just let me—I need to finish talking to him.”

“Kha Loung, what did he say to you?”

“You need to go to bed,” Russia mutters.

“Here, grab his phone and hang up. I’ll get him a glass of water,” China says, disappearing down the hall.

Russia approaches him when he’s gone, and South Korea backs up, crashing against the door.

“What the fuck? What was that?” Hong Kong blurts out, his voice loud again.

“Ivan is attacking me,” South Korea whines as Russia tries to take the phone from him.

“Ivan is with you?”

South Korea hiccups. “Yeah. He’s gonna make me hang up. So, see ya I guess.”

“Wait, Yong-Soo,” Hong Kong blurts out, his voice strangled. “You won’t remember this. Fuck, but I don’t—I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

South Korea giggles.

“Being together—”

Russia snatches the phone.

“Listen, Kha Loung, he’s drunk.”

A pause.

“Yeah, I know.”

Pause.

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“You’re more obvious than you think.”

Pause.

“Drunk or not; clearly he has feelings for you too. What he said wasn’t made up.”

China comes back with a glass of water. He forces South Korea to drink; then hoists him up. Russia is no longer on the phone. When did that happen?

They lead him to his bed and practically throw him in it. They then turn off his light and shut the door.

He finally has a dreamless night.

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _17_ _일_  

South Korea wakes up because he has to pee.

He’s immediately greeted by a headache.

The digital clock on his nightstand reads 2 AM, and he blinks, trying to piece together his memory.

_I had some beers…Alfred and Kiku were being their usual selves…I called someone?_

He sits up; then realizes he’s alone in his room.

_Fuck, are the other four on the couch?_

He climbs out of bed, his head throwing a fit the entire time, and sees that he’s still partially dressed in his suit. His mouth also tastes vile.

After throwing off his clothing and putting on clean ones, he heads to the bathroom where it still reeks of bleach.

_Bleach…_

He’s on the verge of remembering something, but it just isn’t coming to him. After going pee and furiously brushing his teeth, he takes some pain meds and heads to the living room.

He has to blink to adjust his eyes, and as soon as they focus, he feels like a dick.

America and Russia are both half-off the couch while China and Japan are contorting themselves to fit in the open space that’s left.

South Korea stands there. He doesn’t want to wake them up, but—

Russia’s eyes fling open when he shifts his weight.

They look at each other. South Korea is acutely aware of the dull pounding coming from his head.

“You can go to my bed,” he finds himself saying. He regrets those words immediately, but he can’t take them back now.

Russia blinks; then nods slowly. He nudges China.

China is a really deep sleeper, so it takes a bit for him to respond. “Mmm?”

“We’re going to Yong-Soo’s bed.”

“But isn’t he there?”

“No, he’s right here.”

China looks over the couch.

South Korea feels a wave of exhaustion pass over him when they make eye contact. He forces out a smile as China blinks and stands up, stumbling away from the couch. Russia follows him, and without a word, they go to his room.

He takes their previous spot on the couch, happy that, at the very least, it’s warm.

He shifts until he finds a comfortable spot, waiting for America and Japan to wake up, but they never do.

Eventually, he drifts off again.

* * *

 

“You…like me?” Hong Kong whispers, sounding disgusted.

South Korea feels ill. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

Halim’s niece is in the shadows. “You should feel sorry for _everything_.”

…

Someone is nudging him.

He swats his hand at them, burying his face further into the couch cushion.

“Mr. Im, we have to leave.”

South Korea’s eyes fling open.

It’s still dark, but he can see his Nation Advisor standing there, dressed in a suit.

“What time is it?” His voice cracks.

“6 AM,” she responds.

South Korea sits up in a daze, his arm bumping Japan’s foot.

Realization washes over him.

“We need to go,” Maeng repeats.

“You’re gonna have to give us, like 10 minutes,” South Korea blurts out, his voice hushed as he can make it. Shit, America is spooning Japan. Are they going to get in trouble? Why the fuck is she here?

Maeng looks annoyed. Her eyes are sunken in. “Fine.”

“Can’t you wait in the hallway or something?” South Korea hisses when she doesn’t move, glancing back at Japan and America’s sleeping bodies.

Maeng frowns. “Why?”

“ _Why_?”

America shifts.

“Oh you’re referring to—it’s okay; everyone knows.”

South Korea’s head is pounding. “They’re going to be uncomfortable. Please, at least stand in the kitchen.”

Maeng clenches her jaw. “Alright, but wake them up and get moving.”

“Fine,” South Korea nearly snaps. Maeng purses her lips but still complies and walks to the kitchen.

South Korea stares at Japan and America, debating over whom he should wake up first. He’d rather not touch Japan, but if he abruptly woke America up, that might scare him.

He clenches his jaw, leans over, and pokes Japan’s arm.

No response.

South Korea shakes it.

His eyes open slightly, and he glares.

“What?”

“We have to go,” South Korea says, his voice at a normal level.

Japan flinches. “Excuse me?”

“We need to leave, so wake up Alfred and get ready.”

America makes a groaning noise and opens his eyes just as Japan sits up. “Why do we have to go now?” he whines.

Japan cuts South Korea off before he can even say anything. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay, actually. I mean, my back hurts because this couch is uncomfortable as shit, but you were here with me, so…”

Japan smiles, but it comes out more like a grimace.

America laughs. “You look really hung-over.”

“Yeah…I overdid it.”

They keep talking, but South Korea zones out when he tries to piece together his own memories. He called someone in the bathroom, but…

“Yong-Soo, do you have any painkillers?” America asks after South Korea stands up.

He frowns. “Yeah, in the kitchen.”

 _Crap_.

“Who the hell is that?” Japan blurts out, moving away from America.

South Korea sighs. “Shit, sorry. It’s my Nation Advisor. Ignore her.”

Maeng looks impatient. “We need to leave soon.”

“How long has she been here?” Japan demands. America seems nervous.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maeng responds. “Please, we’ve been up all night. No one gives a shit about your relationships right now. I’m not going to report anything. Just, get dressed. You can wear sweats; it really doesn’t matter.”

If Japan responds, South Korea doesn’t hear because he walks to his bedroom and opens the door.

Russia and China are on opposite sides of the bed, China curled into a ball and hogging all of the blankets, while Russia is on his back, his mouth wide open and his inside arm stretched out almost like he’s reaching for China. Both are sound asleep.

South Korea turns on the light.

Russia’s eyes snap open immediately. “God, what the fuck?”

“We have to go,” South Korea says dully. He can hear America and Japan shuffling around in the bathroom.

“It’s only 6:07.”

“There are officials waiting for us.”

Russia rubs his face; then nudges China.

He makes an unintelligible noise. “What?”

“We have to get ready.”

Just as they sit up, South Korea opens his closet to find the frumpiest outfit he owns.

He takes out a pair of sweatpants and throws it on the bed. “Here, Yao, you can wear that.”

Russia stands up. China is still half-asleep. “Sweats?”

“We can wear whatever we want.”

China looks at the clothing and frowns as Russia trudges to the kitchen. He then makes eye contact with South Korea. “Hey, how much do you remember from last night?”

“Who the hell did I call?”

“Ah, so you don’t—”

Russia walks briskly back into the room. “Who the fuck is in the kitchen?”

“My Nation Advisor. Ignore her,” South Korea mutters. He then opens his mouth to tell China to keep talking, but instead, China gets up and heads to the bathroom.

It ends up taking them around ten minutes to get situated, just as he thought it would. When they’re finished, they all look like sleep-deprived college students who picked up some random clothing off of their floor to wear.

America is donning the Spongebob shirt while Russia is rocking the ‘try my delicious salt beef.’ Everyone is wearing sweatpants, none of their hair is styled, and they all look sleep deprived.

Oh, and South Korea and Japan are hung-over, so that’s just the icing on the cake.

They follow Maeng outside once they’re ready.

She’s muttering to herself.  

* * *

 

South Korea checks his call history when he’s in the car.

Hong Kong.

He _drunk dialed_ Hong Kong.

And with the way China has been looking at him all morning, he must have said something bad.

His stomach twists into a knot, and he feels anxiety creep up his throat. His face then must betray him because suddenly Maeng’s looking in the rearview mirror and reassuring him. “Mr. Im, don’t worry. This situation will be solved soon.”

He leans his head against the window and squeezes his eyes shut. 

* * *

 

“Your clothing choice is…interesting,” Park says when they exit the car.

South Korea is tired, grumpy, and anxious. “Well, we didn’t have many options considering the other four never received their suitcases.”

Park frowns. “But they were supposed to. Ms. Maeng, I thought you were covering that.”

Maeng looks like she just shit her pants. “My apologies. I seem to have forgotten.”

Park turns away from her in a dismissive manner. “It doesn’t matter now. Nations, follow me. I’ll take you to where you’ll be memorizing various documents and scripts. There are aides from your countries who will be assisting you to do so.”

She starts walking at a brisk pace, and they all hurry to keep up.

Inside, it’s mostly South Korean officials meandering around, but there are a few Russian, Chinese, Japanese, and American staff members as well.

No one looks happy.

They’re taken to a meeting room where there are five different desks set up, each with documents stacked on top.

The aides are hovering.

“Good luck,” Park says stiffly.

* * *

 

 _What the fuck did I say to_ _Kha Loung? Should I text him? I should ask Yao, but when the hell am I ever going to get a moment?_

His aide taps his desk. “Mr. Im.”

South Korea jerks. “Sorry.”

“Repeat to me Line 4 in Section 3A of your script.”

“Uh, that’s the part where I’m discussing sanctions, right?”

The aide seems annoyed. He has circles under his eyes. “Yes.”

South Korea tries to focus, but the background conversations are distracting, especially since they’re in other languages.

The aide taps his desk again. “Mr. Im, Line 4, Section 3A please.”

He rubs his face. “There’s going to be an import ban…” 

* * *

 

America is leaning his head on his hand. “So Yao’s speaking first out of like, courtesy to the North Koreans, and then I’m giving my short spiel, and then you’re barfing out shit, right Yong-Soo?”

South Korea shuffles through his notes. “I think…?”

“And Yong-Soo is handling most of the questions North Korea may ask, unless he specifically addresses someone else,” China mutters, highlighting something.

South Korea groans and leans his head back.

He, America, and China are in another room since they had lunch there. They’re seated at a table; empty bowls pushed to the side. Japan and Russia are still in the original place. They won’t be speaking as much during the dialogue, so they’re focusing on other matters.

South Korea, America, and China, meanwhile, have to memorize a fucking script.

“At least the dialogue is only slated to last forty-five minutes,” China attempts to say reassuringly.

South Korea looks at him. “Yeah, ‘only.’”

He sighs.

The only good thing right now is that they’re finally alone.

“Alfred, your shirt is really distracting,” China mutters absentmindedly after a couple of minutes.

Spongebob’s soulless eyes are looking at them.

America doesn’t glance up from his script. “You and Yong-Soo bought it.”

“I’m now realizing my mistake.”

South Korea is staring at a paragraph. He reads a sentence three times, understands none of it; then rubs his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.”

China glances at him. “Do you have everything memorized?”

He laughs and takes out his phone. “No.”

“I don’t think I can do this for much longer either,” America mumbles.

South Korea is about to make a comment, but now holding his phone, he suddenly remembers last night.

He doesn’t care if the room’s bugged.

“Fuck, Yao, did I say anything bad last night to Kha Loung?” he rushes out, his anxiety resurfacing with a vengeance.

“Kha Loung?” America asks when China frowns.

South Korea feels pathetic. “I drunk dialed him.”

“Oh.”

China sighs. “…I don’t think now’s the appropriate time to discuss this.”

“Yao, please.”

“You didn’t say anything particularly bad, just that you hate yourself and think that everyone else hates you too.”

South Korea feels his stomach in his throat. “Oh.”

“You were drunk,” China ends up saying at the same time America blurts out:

“We don’t hate you?”

“Just focus on this dialogue,” China murmurs after South Korea covers his face. “And know that none of us hate you, _especially_ Kha Loung.”

His face heats up.

He still feels like shit, though.

* * *

 

“We just need to work through this together,” America mumbles when China goes to the bathroom. South Korea blearily looks up from his script. “You as Yong-Soo—me as Alfred.”

South Korea forces out a grin. “You know, I guess we are dealing with North Korea again, aren’t we?”

America looks away. “I’m sorry we couldn’t reunite the two sides.”

South Korea almost starts crying. He finds it ridiculous. 

* * *

 

He’s not even paying attention to what Park’s saying.

It’s the same room from yesterday, except; this time they all look even worse, and Russia has a shirt on in broken English that Putin clearly wasn’t thrilled about. Obama laughed when he saw America’s.

“…will be happening at 8 AM tomorrow at the DMZ’s Joint Security Area in one of the blue conference rooms,” Park drones. “We will be locating the Nations to a private complex 30 minutes away by car.”

Nods. South Korea rubs his eyes.

“We believe it’s best to relocate them now. At 6 AM tomorrow morning is when staff members will meet them again, ready to make sure they’re presentable and in suitable clothing.”

_Maeng said we could dress like this, you know._

No one argues, though Putin does look like someone just shoved a stick up his ass.

“If there are no complaints; then we’ll dismiss the Nations.”

* * *

 

The estate they’re at is in the middle of nowhere.

It was a three-hour trip, and South Korea is utterly exhausted when their driver unlocks the door for them.

“Your Nation Advisors and other staff members will arrive at 6 AM tomorrow,” he says as they walk inside. “You’ll also have complete privacy while here, so don’t worry.”

They mumble responses.

The house is one story, and the entrance is just a skinny hallway that juts off in different directions. Straight down it is the living room that’s directly attached to a kitchen and eating area. From the living room is another skinny hallway.

South Korea kicks off his shoes and wanders towards it while the others explore elsewhere. There are four rooms attached, one of them a bathroom.

All three of the bedrooms only have a king-sized bed, though.

He wonders how ‘private’ this house really is and collapses onto the bed his suitcase is on, staring at the ceiling, not sure what to feel.

_“You didn’t say anything particularly bad, just that you hate yourself and think that everyone else hates you too.”_

South Korea rubs his face, feeling that anxiety kick in again.

He wants to call him. He knows he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

He dials Hong Kong’s number.

“Yong-Soo?” Hong Kong asks a few moments later.

“I’m sorry,” he says, it coming out more choked than he intended.

“W-What?”

“For…drunk dialing you.”

“Oh.”

There’s a really uncomfortable pause.

“Do you remember what you said?” Hong Kong whispers first.

South Korea swallows. “No. But Yao said I rambled on about how I hate myself and how everyone hates me, so I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear that.”

Hong Kong is silent.

“Shit.” South Korea rubs his face. “And sorry for calling now.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“…”

“For someone who screams a lot, all you ever do is bottle up your emotions.”

“Thanks,” South Korea mutters.

“Please don’t overdose on sleeping medication again.”

“I’m not—”

“That’s what you did the last time!”

“…”

“Yong-Soo,” Hong Kong gets out. “No one hates you. _I—I_ don’t hate you. And you shouldn’t hate yourself either. You’re—You’re a really good person.”

South Korea laughs sharply. “Alright. If I was one, I wouldn’t have made you feel like shit for two weeks and incited an incident that made Spain—”

“That has nothing to do with you; what the hell are you talking about?”

“Mei would have never kissed you if I wasn’t—”

“That’s such a fucking reach, Yong-Soo.”

“Then why do I keep having nightmares about you and Spain and everything else!?”

Hong Kong is silent.

South Korea’s anxiety increases. “I should hang up.”

“Please don’t,” he blurts out.

“…”

“Yong-Soo, I—” Hong Kong takes a shaky breath. “I don’t hate you.”

“You just told me,” he mutters.

“I _really_ don’t hate you.”

“…”

“Fuck,” Hong Kong sounds frazzled. “I—I—emotions. You. I have them for you. Feelings.”

It takes South Korea a moment to process what he just said.

His ears are ringing as Hong Kong begins to ramble.

“I’m sorry. I know now’s not an appropriate time to tell you this, but I wanted—shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen either, but I think for a while I’ve harbored some—”

“I have feelings for you too,” South Korea whispers, feeling nervous and panicky and dazed all at the same time.

“You…said that yesterday,” Hong Kong breathes. “But you—you were really drunk.”

_Oh._

There’s a long pause, almost like both of them don’t know how to handle this.

“Come back safe, okay?” Hong Kong eventually chokes out. “Focus on this stupid issue right now, but come back safe.” He takes a shaky breath. “For—For me. And then we can get through the rest of this mess together.”

Despite everything, South Korea finds himself laughing. “Okay. But only for you.”

He can almost see Hong Kong roll his eyes.

“Kha Loung,” he then murmurs.

“Y-Yeah?”

South Korea almost starts crying again. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

They play a board game that night, and everything almost feels like it might be okay. 

* * *

 

“I don’t hate you,” Hong Kong whispers, despite having a neck covered in bruises and a face caked with Japanese makeup.

South Korea starts crying.

…

_2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _18_ _일_  

His alarm clock ringing at 5:30 AM is like a slap in the face.

He reaches for his phone to shut it off; then rubs his eyes and sits up, blankly staring at the wall.

He’s so nervous for the dialogue that he’s entered a weird state of pseudo-calmness.

_You just need to get through this, and then you’re going back to Geneva._

Which is also not that great, but at least Hong Kong is there.

_“Come back safe…for me._

He sighs and stands up; then heads to the bathroom.

Japan is already there, and both tiredly nod at each other as they brush their teeth in silence.

“How late did you stay up last night?” Japan murmurs once he spits out his toothpaste.

He does the same. “I tried to go to bed at 1, but I probably didn’t fall asleep until, like, 3 AM.”

“Me too…”

He puts his toothbrush down and turns to leave. He can hear America in the kitchen.

“Do you really hate yourself?” Japan whispers out of the nowhere.

South Korea frowns. “This is a conversation I don’t want to have at 5:30 in the morning right before a dialogue with North Korea.”

Japan looks away. “I just wanted to tell you that I could relate. I know it’s not a great time, but…”

South Korea blinks.

“We’ve…already discussed this at the lake, but I despised myself after the war.” He packs up his cosmetics. “But it gets better. You might hate yourself. You might despise yourself, but if you rely on your friends and open up to them, it helps. It really does.”

“Why are you telling me this?” South Korea mutters.

“I…overheard your conversation with Kha Loung and just wanted to tell you that he’s right; no one hates you. Especially him.” South Korea’s face is turning bright red. Japan ignores it. “And I know romantic love isn’t the magic fix to solve all of your problems, but I really think being with him can benefit both of you.”

It takes South Korea a few moments to garble anything out, and what he eventually does is nonsense. “You—are you—why are you being nice?”

“Am I not allowed?” Japan says flatly.

His face is still hot.

“Just let us help you, Yong-Soo. Your friends want you happy. Everyone here does.”

“…You included?”

He rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

South Korea actually laughs.

* * *

 

It’s 5:55. They have a random assortment of food thrown together that they’re picking at while Russia and China take a shower together.

South Korea, Japan, and America are at the kitchen table. Scattered in front of them are their notes. South Korea feels lightheaded just looking at them.

The shower shuts off.

He flips to the next page of his packet, trying to focus, but his thoughts are all over the place. Of North Korea. Hong Kong. The Plan. Kazimir. The fact he’ll have to go back to Geneva. The fact they don’t even know why North Korea acted out in the first place.

“What did you make?” China asks, both he and Russia walking into the room.

“Random shit,” America mutters, flipping a page of his packet. Their empty bowls are stacked on the counter.

“There isn’t much food left,” South Korea mumbles, feeling slightly sick. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten anything. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” China reassures.

Russia walks to the kitchen and opens a cabinet. “There are some loaves of bread in here.”

China nods just as the doorbell rings.

South Korea takes one for the team and stands up to answer it.

“Are all of you awake?” Maeng asks on the other side of the door. With her are a team of stylists and the other Nation Advisors. All of them seem exhausted.

“Yeah,” South Korea mumbles. “We’re looking over our documents.”

“Good. Okay, first will fix your appearances, and then we’ll do a quick rundown…” 

* * *

 

After going through three security checks, they pull up to the JSA.

South Korea is anxious.

It’s 7:50 AM. Negotiations are starting at 8:00.

“Yong-Soo, relax,” China whispers when everyone climbs out of the car.

He nods in a jerky motion, already feeling a headache forming. He can sense North Korea. The kid must be in Panmon Hall, which is on the North Korean side of the JSA across the Military Demarcation Line.

They’ll be meeting inside one of the blue buildings, which is just a conference room with what feels like a billion invisible cameras. There are entrances on both ends, one that leads to the North and the other that leads to the South. The particular one they’ll be in has doors that bolt shut on a timer too.

They ran over everything while getting their appearances fixed. South Korea is pretty sure he knows what he’s talking about, but he’s still nervous. He hates this type of shit.

He’s afraid he’ll mess up. Ruin everything.

Have it be his fault, or something.

America puts his hand on South Korea’s shoulder, and he deflates. The five of them are now standing outside the blue building, awaiting permission to enter.

“I can sense his presence,” South Korea mutters.

America drops his hand. “Me too.”

He fidgets. He’s holding a folder full of documents he’s allowed to refer to if needed. Everyone else has something similar.

“You may enter the building,” a South Korean security guard announces.

South Korea takes a deep breath and walks inside.

Normally, security guards remain in the building at all times; however, these Nation meetings are special, so they’re alone.

There’s a single table in the center of the room. Five chairs are placed on one side while there’s a lone one on the other.

They take their seats—Japan first, then America, South Korea, China, and Russia on the opposite end.

_Yao’s greeting North Korea first. Then Alfred will give his spiel, and then you barf stuff. This is only going to last forty-five minutes. You can do this._

North Korea’s presence gets closer.

_You can do this._

The door on the opposite side of the building opens.

 _You can_ —

It’s always jarring when South Korea sees North Korea.

He looks like a teenager and has hair cropped to the same ugly style as Kim Jong-Un. He’s also dressed in a suit that just isn’t fitting him right.

“Thank you for cooperating with our wishes for this dialogue,” North Korea says once he’s situated.

China nods stiffly. “We appreciate your cooperation as well. We’d like to address certain issues that have come to light due to some recent military activity.”

“Please list these concerns.”

America sits up straight and goes off on a tangent.

South Korea’s head is pounding now. He fights to keep a blank expression as he stares at North Korea.

_Why do you have to exist?_

_What would have happened if_ _I stayed in the North?_

America finishes rattling off his bit, and now it’s South Korea’s turn to speak.

He takes a deep breath.

“As you can see from what America explained, the missile strike against the US naval ship during the joint military training exercise between the United States of America, Japan, and the Republic of Korea is inexcusable. Should you think not, sanctions will be implemented from all five of our countries.”

In South Korea’s script, there are a couple of potential responses that North Korea might say, so he’s anticipating the kid to fight back and make excuses.

Because that’s what usually happens.

That’s what his whole script, his really long script, is centered around.

But apparently, North Korea doesn’t want to play by those rules today.

“The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea understands that its actions were wrong and misguided.”

_…What?_

None of them respond, so North Korea repeats himself like they didn’t just hear. “The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea understands that its actions were wrong and misguided. We will accept the sanctions and apologize.”

South Korea makes eye contact with China, who seems just as confused.

He low-key wants to turn to one of the security cameras and ask what they should do now.

 _We still have_ , South Korea looks at the wall clock, _38 minutes left to kill._

“Can I ask why your military felt the need to threaten regional security by launching an attack?” China asks, breaking the silence.

“We made a miscalculation.”

“What miscalculation?”

“We made one.”

China frowns.

“Was it that your country felt threatened?” Russia asks. “If regional security is an issue, the matter of joint-military drills can be a topic of discussion.”

“We made a miscalculation.”

Russia seems frustrated. Next to South Korea, America fidgets.

“Can you please elaborate what the miscalculation was?” Japan tries.

“No.”

_What the fuck._

36 minutes left.

_So we went through all of this shit just to have North Korea comply this easily!? They were the ones demanding a dialogue! We put all this energy and effort into doing this! Why…_

They sit there until something in North Korea’s expression shifts.

“How threatening is a nuclear strike?” he asks, sounding different.

China’s eyebrows scrunch up. “Nuclear deterrence is something practiced by the world’s leading powers. Having strategic nuclear weapons is a topic that’s very much debated.”

“Oh…”

 _It’s something you should know about,_ South Korea almost sneers.

“Are the People’s Republic of China or Russian Federation in danger of being hit with a nuclear strike?” North Korea asks again.

China frowns. “…No?”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes? Unless you have news that you wish to elaborate on.”

North Korea fidgets, his expression becoming more twisted as his presence expands.

“I don’t like talking to you all formal like this,” he whispers.

“Min-Hyuk,” China hisses. “I have no idea what you’re doing, but this is very serious, and we’re being monitored by cameras.”

South Korea didn’t even know North Korea had a name.

Moreover, the fact that China knew what it was.

Russia frowns. “I think we should get back on topic.”

“I don’t want you or Ivan to be in danger, but I overheard that you might be, and—”

Someone bangs on the North Korean door.

They all jump.

“Min-Hyuk,” China urges. “Get back on topic.”

“Who is Kazimir Gorelov and why did he orchestrate a visit between us and a Mafia group to give us nuclear technology secrets if we promised to create a diversion that would distract your five countries and everyone else located in Geneva?” North Korea blurts out.

Everything seems to still.

“Excuse me?” Russia gets out first.

There’s another bang on the North Korean door. South Korea can hear people screaming.

“I—I don’t want you or Yao to get hurt!”

Another bang.

“Why are you telling us this?” China demands.

“I—I don’t—”

Everyone’s presences are expanding. South Korea makes eye contact with America and Japan. Both seem just as confused as him.

North Korea looks like a little kid. “I don’t want you two to get hurt! You’re the only ones who talk to me!”

“Min-Hyuk—”

_BANG!_

“I’m sorry.”

_BANG!_

“Who’s—”

The North Korean door breaks down.

Instantly, the screaming gets louder. Guns are being pointed. Yelling. Someone grabs North Korea and drags him out. He disappears. South Korea, America, Japan, Russia, and China stand up, backing away. They’re pressed against the South Korean wall. The North Koreans are aiming guns at them. More screaming. South Korea can only hear the ringing in his ears.

29 minutes left.

There’s more yelling coming from outside after the North Koreans back away. South Korea can’t distinguish what anyone’s saying. North Korea’s presence starts to fade.

28 minutes left.

“Do we have to wait here until the time is up?” America chokes out.

27 minutes left.

“It seems like it,” South Korea mumbles

* * *

 

When their door finally unbolts, it’s pure chaos.

The five of them are descended upon, berated with questions they don’t know the answers to.

South Korea is confused, anxious, unsure.

He still barely knows who Kazimir Gorelov is. 

* * *

 

They’re thrown on a private jet and are in the air around 8 PM.

The five of them have barely said a word to each other. 

* * *

 

South Korea first looks at Russia holding China’s mangled body; then at Prussia, who’s clutching _the kid_ to his chest.

He has to kill him. He has to—

The kid is screaming. He’s begging.

He morphs into Halim’s niece just as South Korea’s about to shoot him.

…

Someone is shaking him.

He jerks and opens his eyes, only to see Russia. He’s out of his seat and is leaning over him.

South Korea blinks.

“You were having a nightmare,” Russia mutters.

He swallows and nods, noticing that everyone else is passed out just as Russia trudges back to his seat.

“…Thank you,” South Korea mumbles.

Russia grunts.

_“Just let us help you, Yong-Soo. Your friends want you happy. Everyone here does.”_

He realizes that maybe Japan wasn’t lying.

* * *

 

Because of the time difference, they arrive back at Switzerland’s villa around midnight.

South Korea is exhausted.

The five of them stumble out of the car and walk up to the front door. It swings open, though, before anyone even has a chance to knock.

“We had someone come over and explained what happened,” Taiwan blurts out. “But it was really vague, and—”

“Mei, we’re exhausted,” Yao mutters. He’s looked really awful ever since the meeting. “Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

She looks like she’s about to explode. “I mean, sure, but they’ve been keeping us in the dark—”

“I can give you a run down inside,” South Korea mumbles.

Taiwan nods as they enter the house. Russia and China immediately head upstairs while America and Japan disappear into the kitchen.

He and Taiwan go to the office.

She’s peering at him expectantly.

Soth Korea sighs. “Okay, first…” He frowns. “Wait, where’s Kha Loung?”

“In the shower. I yelled for him when the car pulled in, so he should be down soon.”

“Ah…”

They sit in silence on the couch for a bit.

“North Korea has a name,” South Korea then mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

Taiwan frowns. “What is it?”

“Min-Hyuk.” South Korea rubs his face. “Yao called him it after he snapped.”

Taiwan puts her hand on his thigh just as Hong Kong sprints into the room, his hair soaked.

She removes her hand immediately. “Kha Loung, Yong-Soo was just about to give me a better explanation of what happened.”

He seems flustered. “Oh, uh, okay.”

South Korea wants to touch him.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he mutters, staring at the carpet. “What happened is that North Korea went off script immediately, then broke character, then rambled on about how Kazimir offered nukes to the North Korean government so they would distract us. I guess we’ll be discussing that more in-depth at the UN meeting thing on the 20th. That’s what they told us.”

“This is so surreal,” Taiwan mutters.

Hong Kong takes some tentative steps closer. “How—How are you doing?”

South Korea looks up and gives a broken smile. His stomach is suddenly full of butterflies. “I don’t know.”

France laughs from the other room.

“I’m going to see how Ivan and Yao are,” Taiwan says, standing up. “Yao looked awful.”

“He doesn’t like any conversations about Kazimir,” South Korea mumbles.

“I know…”

As she leaves, Hong Kong sits next to him.

“Can—Can I hug you?” he whispers first.

South Korea nods, and Hong Kong turns and pulls him into a tight embrace.

His hair is wet, but South Korea finds that he doesn’t care. He buries his face into it and reciprocates.

“I’m really happy you’re okay,” Hong Kong chokes out.

“I told you I’d be,” South Korea mumbles.

Hong Kong grips him tighter.

“Spain hasn’t—he hasn’t done anything else to you, right?”

“No.”

South Korea releases a shaky breath. “Good.”

Hong Kong’s hair is wet, but he feels warm.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Hong Kong chokes out again. He sounds near tears.

South Korea squeezes him.

“You’re not annoying. You’re not unlikable. I don’t hate you.”

“Thank you.”

Hong Kong’s flustered. “For what?”

_For returning my feelings. For being here._

“Thank you.” South Korea’s voice cracks.

“H-Hey—”

He starts crying _._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to melodytran for the Korean translations.
> 
> 曉梅 = Xiao Mei = Taiwan
> 
> 李嘉龙= Lei Kha Loung= Hong Kong 
> 
> Nguyen Lien = Vietnam. 
> 
> อนันตชัย หลีกภัย = Anantachai Leekpai = Thailand –
> 
> *Blue House = the South Korean equivalent of the White House.
> 
> *http://sliptalk.s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/07180748/distractify-TryMyDeliciousSaltBeef.jpg
> 
> /
> 
> **this Conan video sums it up the JSA pretty good: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K46Ez-Igc9E&index=9
> 
> *In hetalia ‘‘cannon’’ (I use this term loosely because it was never /directly/ a thing) North Korea has a long braided ponytail, which I don’t really understand?? I get it that that style was popular in ancient Korea, but idk I don’t see good old Kim Jong-Un having this kid grow his hair out
> 
> Me: ahh yes I love all the ships that are tagged in this work. rochu, ameripan, fragrant kimchi *looks at smudged writing on hand* frying pineapple *squints* fruit


	22. IX. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-harm

 

> > **Дата Вход** : 18.05.15 
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You have to destroy laptop.

Robert’s vision is blurring.

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You cannot leave any evidence behind. I want you to be safe. You need to destroy laptop. Especially since information was leaked from the North Koreans, we do not know what will happen.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please destroy laptop. Please.
> 
> **Robert** : How
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Smash it into pieces. Figure it out. It needs to be destroyed.

_But what if the plan falls through? Then we’ll never have a way to contact each other again._  

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The plan is going to happen. We will not be able to talk to each other for a day, but I am certain everything is going to work out
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Even with information leaks the plan will succeed.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am afraid that if you do not destroy laptop, then your safety will be threatened.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I want you safe.

Robert clenches his jaw. _I know. You’ve said that three times now._   

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Please, Robert. 

He squirms. 

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : It is 11 PM in Geneva, yes? Wait until later--3 AM maybe--and take it outside and break it. Get cover. One of insiders will cover you. They are also destroying their means of communication
> 
> **Robert** : Your English is pretty shitty today
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I type you multiple messages, and you respond with that.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : We could speak Russian
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Or better yet, Polish.
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : You are Italian. Why don’t you speak Italian?
> 
> **Robert** : I’m not Italian. My parents were
> 
> **Robert** : Holy shit wait did you just use a contraction
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Sometimes even I am capable of using them.

Robert finds himself smiling; then becomes frustrated because of it.

There’s a knock on his door.

He glares at it; then starts typing again after he thinks they’ve left.

Another knock.

“Who is it?” he snaps.

“Robert,” Ilse’s voice says from the other side.

 _Fuck. Fuck—_  

> **Robert** : i have to go
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Oh. This is sudden.
> 
> **Robert** : im sorry--someone is at my door

“Robert!”  

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : That is fine. But
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I guess this is the last time we will be messaging each other on here.
> 
> **Robert** : yeah 

“I swear to God, open this door!”   

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : The plan will work. We’ll see each other soon. I’ll see you soon. I cannot wait to see you. I’m so happy you decided to come here. What we are doing--it is good!
> 
> **Robert** : iw ant to see you too

“ROBERT!”  

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : See you soon, Robert
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : And yes, I used those contractions for you ;)

_Don’t do that._

Robert’s mouth is dry. He feels weird.

This is…they’re…

> **Robert** : dont do that
> 
> **Robert** : and yeah see you soon

He turns off his laptop, chucks it under the bed; then stands up in a shaky motion and walks to the door.

When he opens it, Ilse doesn’t look happy. With her is Halim.

“The hell were you doing?” she snaps.

_You haven’t talked to me since I shot America; why are you here now?_

“I was getting dressed,” Robert mutters. “Since I was asleep.”

Her expression falls. “Oh.”

“Ilse wanted to ask you some questions!” Halim says in his usual irritating voice.

Robert blinks and rubs his face. He realizes he needs to shave and sighs. “What, then?”

“Can we come into your room first?” Halim asks. The bastard is smiling.

He attempts to contain his frustration. “Sure. Fine.”

They walk in, and he shuts the door behind them.

Ilse is wearing a pensive expression as she sits down on Robert’s bed.

“Why are you here?” he mutters, unable to make eye contact. He pathetically begged her to talk to him after the incident, and she ignored him, so he doesn’t…

Halim is still smiling. “So we can—”

“Shut up! I’m talking to her!”

Halim frowns.

“Why are you here?” Robert asks again. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Ilse’s expression is blank. “Where did you get that gun, Robert?”

“I’ve been—I was already interrogated about this!”

“I want to hear it from you. Where did you get that gun?”

Robert bristles. “From that Swiss man Axel at the shooting range.”

“Why did he have poison bullets? How did he even get them?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! He just offered the gun to me, so I bought it.”

“Don’t act like I’m stupid!” Ilse yells.

They stare at each other.

“I know there’s some sort of ‘mutiny’ going on,” she then says in a much calmer tone. “And after this North Korea shit, saying that they shot an American ship as a _diversion_ —I’m worried! And you somehow had a gun with poison bullets—please, Robert, I just want to know what’s going on. I just want everyone to be safe.”

_You’re going to be dead in two days._

Robert blinks, feeling nauseous. Suddenly all he can see is his sister.

Halim says something in Arabic.

“That’s a good question…” she mutters in English, making eye contact with Robert. “Why did you feel the need to get the gun in the first place?”

He swallows. His sister is still staring at him. “I was…afraid. And it ended up protecting us, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Are you—Are you seriously asking that question?” Robert nearly chokes out.

“Nations exist to protect us.”

“Then why did we almost get murdered!? Then why did they turn against Kazimir and try to kill him!? Nations are _terrifying_!”

His sister frowns. Robert feels like screaming.

_If Russia and China never went against Kazimir—_

_God, if Frank just waited one more day._

_If I just made him wait._

_It’s the Nations’ fault. They’re the root of all my problems._

_And you two like them._

_But it’s okay; you’ll be dead in two days._

_You’ll die in the explosions._

_Or by the gas, or bullets, or—_

“Ilse, he’s having a panic attack!”

“Shit, Robert, take a deep breath. Just—”

_Don’t touch me._

_Stop._

_You’ll both be dead in two days._

_Kazimir. Kazimir. I want to talk to him._

_Fuck, I need—_

“Get out of my room,” he chokes out.

His sister’s expression is broken. “What?”

“GET OUT!”

“I’m just trying to help you!”

“You’ve been avoiding me!”

“Robert—”

“GET OUT!”

“Pl—”

“FUCK OFF!”

“I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU, VATI!” Ilse shrieks.

Robert can’t catch his breath. He feels like he’s suffocating as Ilse stands there in muted shock.

She then backs away and leaves the room. Halim frantically trails her.

Robert stands up and slams the door. He’s shaking. He needs a release—cutting. He could cut. It’s been awhile. He hasn’t—he’s mostly been turning to alcohol or Kazimir. But he doesn’t have either of them.

Kazimir is gone.

_Breathe, breathe—_

There. A sharp object. A razor. He grabs the blade, rolls up his sleeve.

Relief.

* * *

 

_April 9, 1971_

 

Frank is pacing. “He’s supposed to call today.”

Robert takes a drag of his cigarette. “Kazimir will; don’t worry. The road trip is still scheduled to happen on the 12th, so we know that means there were no issues in Siberia.”

“…”

“Frank, you’re worrying too much.”

They’re in Maryland on the outskirts of D.C., inside a dodgy house they purchased with cash, thanks to Kazimir. They have a phone line set up that he’s _supposed_ to use today to let them know he’s fine, but…

The breakout from the Siberian compound happened a week ago. At the moment, Kazimir should be with the Russian mafia group.

_And then when the Russian Nation Avatar returns to the country, the two of them will go together to their government to give some bullshit explanation._

As for Robert and Frank, they’re currently on vacation until the end of the month, so it’s okay for them to be off the grid.

 _“Even Nation Advisors need breaks!”_ Robert and Frank’s boss argued to his superiors after he was drunk and bribed with the money they gave him.

_Though Joseph still has to work since he’s in an active position._

Robert chuckles to himself.

_Fuck you, Joseph._

Frank is still pacing.

“Jesus, Frank.”

“Sorry. Shit, I’m just—he’s like family to me. I’m worried about him.”

_‘Like family.’_

Robert sneers, dropping his cigarette and smothering it with his shoe as Frank keeps pacing. “I thought _I_ was like your family.”

“Yeah, yeah. Both of you,” he says dismissively.

Robert looks away, clenching his fists. “Well, he’ll call, so stop worrying about it.” 

* * *

 

_April 10, 1971_

“Frank—”

“SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED TO HIM!”

Robert recoils. “M-Maybe he’s just having trouble getting in contact.”

Frank doesn’t respond.

“Just—wait until the 12th. That’s when the road trip starts, so he’ll probably call then.” 

* * *

 

 _April 12, 1971_  

It’s almost midnight and Robert is obsessively hovering over the phone. Frank called America’s house earlier in an act of desperation, but that didn’t lead to anything, and now he’s blackout drunk, so there’s no way he could respond if Kazimir—

 _When_ Kazimir calls.

 _When Kazimir—when, when, when—_  

* * *

 

 _April 14, 1971_  

“They killed him, Robert.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then why hasn’t he called?”

“…”

“Fuck—”

“M-Maybe he betrayed us? After all, he is a Soviet.”

“KAZIMIR WOULDN’T BETRAY US!”

Robert recoils.

“Fuck, fuck—” 

* * *

 

 _April 17, 1971_  

“There’s no point in living anymore,” Frank mumbles, putting down his beer bottle. There are countless empty ones scattered around him.

Robert is so anxious it’s hard to breathe. He needs a release but doesn’t want to turn to alcohol, doesn’t want to become as pathetic as Frank.

He digs his nails into his palm. It helps a little.

“I should commit suicide,” Frank slurs.

“No,” Robert snaps. _You’re not going to leave me. Not now. Not after what you’ve done._

_You’re all I have._

_I had Kazimir too, but he’s—_

_He’s probably—_

“The Nations ‘ll be in PA soon…I should meet them there, speak my mind; then kill myself.”

Robert clenches his jaw.

Frank downs another beer. 

* * *

 

 _April 18, 1971_  

“I’m gonna call that Hong Kong Nation Avatar,” Frank mumbles.

Robert looks up from the crossword puzzle he was attempting to focus on. “What?”

“Yeah…If I call him and give some vague warning, that’ll freak everyone out.” Frank laughs to himself, clearly delusional. “That’ll show them…”

_Kazimir, please call right now. Please._

_Please…_  

* * *

 

 _April 19, 1971_  

It’s 4 AM.

“I went to school here,” Frank mumbles, finally sober.

They’re standing at the front entrance of American University. Frank suggested they go for a drive, and Robert agreed.

Their car is pulled over on the shoulder. It’s so early that no one seems to care.

Robert doesn’t know how to respond to Frank’s statement.

“I went here for two years; was in the International Service program… and then, I was recruited by the government.”

“…”

“I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I turned them down.”

Robert looks away, wondering why Frank even took him here.

Frank rubs his face after a bit. “Robert, I’m going to Pennsylvania.”

He feels like someone has kicked him in the gut. “What?”

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

_No._

“I’ll drive you back to the house in Maryland, and then I’m going.”

“But m-maybe Kazimir will call today! At least wait until the road trip is over.” _You can’t go. Not after you promised. Not after we’ve been through so much. You can’t fucking—_

“He’s dead, Robert. I—I killed him.”

Robert’s head is spinning. “You didn’t.”

“This was all my idea!”

“No, he willingly—”

“HE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!”

“Excuse me, sirs,” a police officer says, coming around the corner. He shines a flashlight in their faces.

“What?” Robert snaps, horrified that he’s near tears.

“You two clearly aren’t students here. Please leave the property.”

Frank grabs Robert’s arm just like he did when he was a little kid. “Come on; let’s go.” 

* * *

 

“Goodbye,” Frank mumbles.

Robert is standing on the driveway in disbelief. He almost doesn’t believe this is real. “If you’d just wait—”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Robert is on the verge of hysterics. “You can’t do this to me!”

Frank smiles. “You were like a little brother to me. Both of you. But he suffered because of that, so…maybe you can be happier now.”

“Frank—”

He rolls up the window and pulls away.

Robert wants to scream. He wants to run after the car and, shit, demand Frank to stay there with him.

_You’re all I have; don’t leave me._

_Please don’t leave me._

_Frank—_

The car turns the corner and disappears.

Robert collapses. 

* * *

 

 _April 20, 1971_  

“He thought you were killed, so he…committed suicide,” Robert mumbles, dazed, shocked, consumed with so many emotions he doesn’t know how to process them.

“But I am—I am alive,” Kazimir forces out.

“Well, he’s not.”

“We helped them and they—they _betrayed_ me, and they practically killed him, and—”

“Kazimir, enough.”

_You’re the reason he’s dead._

_It’s your fault._

_Everything is._

Kazimir starts crying.

Robert hangs up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //


	23. X. Juhaina

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۱۹)

_19 May 2015_

 

 

 

 

 

 

She doesn’t want to do this.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	24. Anticipation

_18\. Mai 2015_  

Prussia hates his wheelchair because it’s practically impossible to move around the house. Even if he had two working arms, it would be hard.

So, as a result, he’s trapped in the living room, on the carpet, while everyone who was with him is now in the kitchen talking to Japan and America.

He could stand up and join them, but France is in there, and he would throw a fit if he did.

Prussia grumbles to himself.

Spain is upstairs. Even though they share a room, he’s somehow managed to avoid him for the past couple of days.

France laughs. Prussia tries not to seethe.

England explained that France wasn’t avoiding him, but he thinks that’s horseshit. Ever since Spain lost it, there’s been a tension hanging between them.

He rubs his face with his good hand, but even just that simple action causes his muscles to clench up. He grits his teeth, knowing he needs to take his pain meds soon. The issue is, they haven’t been that effective in the last week…

Japan walks into the room, blinking in surprise when he sees him.

“Hey,” Prussia mumbles.

“Why are you in here alone?”

He tries to look sheepish but ends up flinching after he shrugs.

Japan takes a seat next to him on the couch. Prussia can still hear America, England, France, and Canada joking around about something.

“You probably just talked about this, but sucks what happened with North Korea,” he can’t help but blurt out after a bit.

Japan frowns. “Yeah. …We don’t know what to think of it.”

Prussia fidgets.

“The whole trip was a waste,” Japan mutters. “What we’ve done since the 13th has all just been a complete and utter waste.”

“Well, that’s the point since it _was_ a ‘distraction’ from something.”

“…”

Prussia opts for a topic switch after they sit there in uncomfortable silence.

“You look tired.”

Japan sighs. “It is midnight.”

“Here, at least. What time is it in Seoul?”

“I don’t even know anymore.”

Prussia shifts again, trying not to wince. “I’m also probably going to bed soon.”

Japan studies him. “…Do you need me to get your pain medication?”

Prussia can’t make eye contact. “Could you?”

Japan nods and stands up.

He’s zoning out when everyone comes back into the living room, and it catches him off guard. Japan then walks over to him with his pills and a glass of water. Prussia quickly downs them.

“Hey, Kiku,” America mumbles when he’s finished. “I’m two seconds away from falling asleep.”

Japan takes back the glass. “Me too. Let’s go to bed.”

“I’ll show you that video tomorrow,” Canada says when he disappears into the kitchen.

America beams. “Yeah! Sorry, I tried to sleep on the plane, but it was awful.”

“Don’t be sorry at all.”

Prussia fidgets after the two disappear. He also wants to go to bed, but that means being in the same room as Spain.

England, France, and Canada take a seat.

“I’m going to head upstairs,” Prussia blurts out after a couple of minutes, hoping France is distracted enough that he won’t question him standing up.

“Sit down. What the hell, sit down,” France rushes out just as Prussia’s on his feet.

“I don’t need to be carried,” he snaps in response.

“You’re not supposed to move your shoulder.”

“He’s fine walking up the stairs by himself,” England attempts to mediate.

“But—”

Prussia powerwalks out of the room.

He tries to keep his shoulder as still as possible; yet, inevitably ends up moving it in some way, so it hurts. He knows it’s not healing mainly because he keeps aggravating it, but he honestly can’t bring himself to care much.

He’s just pissed off at this point.

The injury is a huge inconvenience. He hasn’t been able to take a proper shower because of it, is limited in mobility. God, his thumb is still bandaged up too, and his right hand is practically _useless_.

Gritting his teeth, he ends up in front of his bedroom, steeling himself before going inside.

_Deep breath._

He pushes the door open and immediately sees Spain on his bed. He’s texting someone and doesn’t even look up when Prussia enters.

“Hey,” Prussia gets out pathetically after Spain says absolutely nothing. He’s doing everything in his power to try to stay calm.

Spain looks up and scowls. “Where’s your wheelchair?”

Prussia clenches his jaw and sits on his own bed. “In the living room.”

“You shouldn’t be walking around without it.”

“I know, Antonio.”

“Also, shit it’s—you should be getting to bed soon. And don’t forget to strap your shoulder in.”

“Stop treating me like I’m five.”

Spain gets defensive. “I’m not—”

France appears in the doorway, only relaxing when he sees Prussia on the bed. “How’s your shoulder? The stairs—”

Prussia clenches his jaw. “Can we _please_ stop having every conversation centered around it?”

France looks hurt. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“But having every single conversation centered around my shoulder or my cancer—it’s draining!”

Spain puts down his phone. “You don’t know what it’s like for us.”

“What it’s like for  _you_?”

Neither of them responds.

“Both of you get out; I’m going to bed,” Prussia snaps.

France frowns as Spain scrunches up his eyebrows. “Gilbert.”

“GET OUT.”

They both wordlessly leave.

Prussia feels irrational. His pain is building up again, and he’s—he feels so _irritable._

He clenches his jaw, takes out a bottle of sleeping pills, and dry-swallows two.

He just wants to stop existing for a bit.

* * *

 

In his dream, Bavaria, Saxony, and Hesse are yelling something at him.

He almost stops and listens.

* * *

 

  _19. Mai 2015_   

> **Nachrichten [mit Liz und Rod]** :
> 
>          [Jetzt]
> 
> > **Liz** : I think you two just need to sit down and talk
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’ve been /trying/ to do that
> 
> > **Gilbert** : He’s the one avoiding me!!!!
> 
> > **Gilbert** : BOTH of them are 
> 
> > **Rod** : Are you certain you’re not just being stubborn?
> 
> > **Liz** : You do get like that sometimes. Try being more open
> 
> > **Gilbert** : You know what, fuck you two
> 
> > **Rod** : It’s just easy to emphasize with the two of them especially since you’ve been keeping secrets for so long. Antonio and Francis have had little time to process what’s happening. We’ve also had little time. Have patience
> 
> > **Gilbert** : I’m turning my phone off
> 
> > **Liz** : Gil, stop acting like such a child
> 
> > **Rod** : We love you and feel crushed

Prussia turns off his phone.

He’s outside on a lawn chair, not sure where everyone else is, not really caring either.

He sighs, staring at his now blank phone screen.

_I should have just dissolved when the others did._

The back door opens.

“…Should you be here without your wheelchair?”

Prussia miserably makes eye contact with Russia. “Probably not.”

He blinks. Prussia notices he’s holding his tablet. “Well, I’m not going to argue with you,” he says as he sits on one of the free chairs.

Prussia stares off into the backyard, his eyes unfocusing, and is startled when the back door opens again.

“We’ll eat later,” Hong Kong snaps.

“It’s already noon,” China yells. “And both of you look like you’ve lost weight.”

“We’ll have something when you and Mei are done cooking,” South Korea reassures awkwardly.

“I’m going to make sure of that.”

“Yao, I need help with the vegetables!” Taiwan calls from inside. China shuts the door just as he yells something back to her.

“You need to eat,” Russia mumbles, not looking up.

“What are you, our parents?” Hong Kong snaps.

“Well, Yao technically—”

“Stop.”

Prussia chews his lip, watching South Korea and Hong Kong as they walk down the steps to the patio.

The two stop when they see him.

Russia is still staring at his tablet.

“Hey,” Prussia says awkwardly. He’s pretty sure Hong Kong still hates him after the argument, and any attempt to talk to him hasn’t really worked out.

“You don’t have your wheelchair,” South Korea blurts out.

Prussia clenches his jaw. “I’m fine without it.”

Hong Kong grabs South Korea’s sleeve, leading him to the edge of the patio, and they sit down next to each other. They then start fiddling with their phones as Hong Kong leans his head on his shoulder.

_Prussia couldn’t help himself. “But do you like him?”_

_Hong Kong’s face turned scarlet. “Fuck off!”_

Prussia feels himself sneering.

_Ah. I see._

He stands up, which makes Russia peer over his tablet.

“Hey, Yong-Soo.”

South Korea twists his head, causing Hong Kong to lean away and fidget. “Yeah?”

Prussia smirks. “My gaydar is going off.”

He instantly looks embarrassed as five different expressions pass over Hong Kong’s face in the span of a second.

“Excuse me?” Russia asks, sounding baffled.

Prussia finger guns with his good hand and walks inside as Hong Kong starts to say something.

It smells nice, probably due to whatever Taiwan and China are cooking, but Prussia grimaces when his stomach growls.

He doesn’t have the energy to eat.

He doesn’t have the energy to do anything anymore.

In fact, he now has no idea how to entertain himself. He just wants to be alone, but that’s impossible. He can’t hide in his room because Spain’s there, the backyard is now occupied, someone is always in the living room…

He kicks the wall; then regrets that action immediately.

“…Are you okay?” Canada asks. He’s holding a hamper full of laundry.

Prussia feels embarrassed. “Yeah.

“Where’s your wheelchair?”

“In the fucking living room, alright?”

Canada frowns. “You don’t need to be an ass to me. The hell have I done to you?”

“Oh, suddenly _I’m_ the ass! Francis and Antonio—”

“I’m not taking any sides,” Canada interrupts, walking away.

“WHAT SIDES ARE THERE TO TAKE?” Prussia shouts. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

He whirls around and goes back outside, startling Russia, South Korea, and Hong Kong in the process.

Russia frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Leave me alone,” Prussia snaps.

All of them do. 

* * *

 

Ilse sighs. “Well, I guess the doctor will check your shoulder on Friday.”

“Thanks,” Prussia mumbles in Arabic, hating that he had to tell her about it.

“How’s your thumb feeling?” Halim asks, hovering.

Prussia chews his lip. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. The bandage is annoying, but now it’s just the shoulder that’s causing any major discomfort.”

They’re in the basement. It’s 4 PM, and the two of them stopped by to check on him.

He’s wary. He doesn’t know if he should allow himself to trust them after the recent events, but…

“The pain meds haven’t been helping much lately, though,” Prussia mutters despite himself. They’re the only two he feels comfortable enough to tell about this.

Ilse frowns. “For your cancer?”

“Yeah…”

“I may have some supplementary drugs,” Halim says, frowning. “I can give them to you tomorrow at the UN meeting.”

“Thank you,” Prussia mumbles.

“We’re picking you guys up at 7 AM,” Ilse adds on.

“Ew.”

“Sorry, I know.”

There’s a pause.

“Why’d you two _really_ stop by?” Prussia mutters. “Coming out here just for a medical checkup seems like a waste of time.”

Ilse frowns. “No, it’s not a waste of time. I wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s been a couple of days.”

Prussia gives her a look.

“Fine…” She sighs and rubs her face. “We…tried to talk to Robert last night to get an answer about the mutiny and diversion.”

“And?”

She clenches her jaw. “It didn’t work out. So I’d thought I discuss it with some of you Nations, but now that I’m here, I have no clue what to say.”

Prussia shifts, feeling bad for ever doubting her trustworthiness. Halim, not so much, since he’s lied about his niece _and_ the experiments, but…

“You don’t seem afraid to talk about it with me.”

“That’s because you’re…different.”

Prussia frowns; then looks at Halim. “What’s the deal with the Nation Army thing now?”

He rubs his face. “It’s going to be discussed in detail tomorrow. Basically, there’s going to be a ‘regrouping.’ Everyone will now be training at the same place, and more security precautions will be issued.”

“Oh. So no more shitty Swiss shooting range?”

Halim cracks a smile. “No.”

“I’m gonna miss Mr. Swiss Man.”

Ilse and Halim both scrunch up their eyebrows. “…Who?”

“Oh. Right. Only Robert knows. Uh, the owner of the shooting range.”

Ilse frowns. “Axel is his name, and he’s the one who gave Robert that gun.”

Prussia furrows his brow. “What?”

“He gave Robert the gun with the poison bullets.”

“Oh.”

They hear someone walking around upstairs.

“Robert had a panic attack last night,” Ilse mumbles, gripping her hair. “He had a full-blown panic attack.”

Halim frowns, placing his hand on her back. “Forget about him. Honestly, Ilse, he’s not good for your mental health.”

Ilse sighs and leans into his touch. “I know but…” She grins miserably. “You saw what I called him. He reminds me so much of my father, Halim. I can’t just abandon him.”

Prussia blinks, taking in their position.

Neither seems to think twice about it. 

* * *

 

Spain is laughing and talking to England. Prussia tries not to glare.

He wants to turn on his phone, but that would mean giving in to Austria and Hungary, and dammit, he’s stubborn. He’s going to wait at least a day.

It’s 8 PM, and everyone is scattered around the living room. Mostly, they all appear content. Taiwan is watching South Korea and Hong Kong play chess, Spain and England are having a lively conversation, Canada and France are ripping apart the show playing on the TV, America and Russia are bantering about something, and China and Japan are talking quietly.

It’s just Prussia who feels like an outsider.

He’s in his wheelchair, but there’s no point. There’s no fucking point.

He stands up and waits for someone to notice. No one does, though, so he walks upstairs, nobody stopping him, and sits on his bed, wanting to die.

He then lies down and fastens his shoulder, not even bothering to wash up or brush his teeth.

Instead, he just begs for sleep.

* * *

 

“If you dissolve, the pain will go away,” Saxony murmurs.

Hesse smiles. “It doesn’t hurt either.”

Prussia feels wary. He doesn’t know why he’s letting them talk to him.

Bavaria comes into view. “What are you even waiting for at this point?”

…

 _20. Mai 2015_  

Prussia’s eyes fling open.

He feels disoriented and shifts; then blearily checks his alarm clock.

It’s 6:45 AM.

_Oh._

He has to leave in 15 minutes, and Spain isn’t even in the room.

_Thanks, Antonio! Were you just going to let me sleep through this!?_

_Well, I did kick him out the other day, but…_

Prussia unfastens his shoulder and sits up. His mouth tastes vile, he feels crusty, and there’s a dull pain pounding throughout his entire body.

_Fantastic._

He attempts to stand, but abruptly the intensity of his pain increases to the point where it’s debilitating, so his legs give out.

He makes a noise, trying not to scream, and in his delirium remembers that his pills are downstairs.

_Fuck—_

The door opens.

Taiwan pokes her head inside. “Hey, it’s time to—” She cuts off when she sees the expression on his face. “Oh my God, are you okay!? How long have you been awake!?”

“I need—my pain meds are downstairs,” Prussia wheezes in response.

Taiwan nods, bolting away.

Prussia tries to focus on something else besides his pain, anything else. But shit, it’s so bad he’s close to crying.

The door opens again, and this time, Spain and France run inside.

Even in this state, Prussia is irrationally pissed off. “What do you two want?” he snaps. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them.

France looks hurt. “Jesus, Gilbert, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Spain hisses. “I don’t want to baby you, but you’re not fine.”

Taiwan shoves through the two of them, holding a glass of water and the pill bottle. She hands them to Prussia, and he quickly downs the maximum dosage he’s allowed.

The problem with the medicine, though, is that it takes some time for the effects to set in. But Prussia has to get ready, so he tries to stand up.

He collapses and nearly screams.

Spain and France are instantly by his side.

Spain is frazzled. France is hyperventilating. “Shit, Gilbert, are you—oh my God—are you—”

“You didn’t take your medication last night,” Spain blurts out. “I saw you —I knew I should have—but I didn’t want to.”

It hurts to breathe. “I’m fine,” Prussia says pathetically. France is still freaking out, but he props him up. “I just need to get ready,” Prussia says again through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the black creeping around the corners of his vision.

A few minutes pass. He takes some shallow breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers once the pain dies down slightly, despising himself. “I’m turning into a fucking mess.”

“You’re not,” France says immediately.

“We can help you too, Gilbert,” Spain adds on, sounding pained. “You don’t have to fight through this alone.”

Prussia knows he’s being unreasonable, but he wants to hold onto _some_ of his pride. “I don’t need—”

“Let them help,” Taiwan interrupts.

France stands up. “Here. Antonio can lead you to the bathroom, and I’ll—I’ll get Alfred or Ivan, and one of them can carry you down the stairs when you’re finished.”

Prussia’s shoulder is pounding. He feels the fight drain out of him. “Fine.”

Carefully, France and Spain help him stand, and once he’s on his feet, he puts all of his weight on Spain. They then slowly head to the bathroom, Spain setting him on the toilet when they get there. He wordlessly prepares Prussia’s toothbrush and hands it to him, and that’s how they operate—silently.

It’s easier that way.

Spain washes Prussia’s face, fixes his hair, puts on his deodorant, helps him dress—which is fucking embarrassing but what’s the point anymore—and then America carries him down the stairs.

Everyone is waiting for him; it’s awful. They’re clearly trying not to look at him out of pity, and Prussia feels so frustrated and humiliated.

It’s just as America sets him on his wheelchair that he hears some cars pull into the driveway.

He doesn’t want to go to the meeting. The realization just washes over him, and he clenches his jaw, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.

Thankfully, the first person to open the door is Ilse.

“There are three cars,” she explains after stepping inside. “One is just for Gilbert since it’ll fit his wheelchair, and the rest of you will be in the others.”

At least he’ll be alone.

* * *

 

“Ilse, screw him.”

“I know, but I’m still—”

“If he keeps ignoring you, then there’s no point.”

“I heard him crying last night, Halim!”

Prussia stares out the window, his head foggy, while Ilse and Halim argue.

Halim sighs. He’s driving while Ilse is next to him in the passenger seat. They’re stuck in traffic, but they’ll be at the UN building in about five minutes.

Prussia is bored.

In the frenzy of trying to get ready on time, he left his phone at the villa, so now he has nothing to do.

Ilse chews her lip. “I’m just concerned about him. I asked around last night and talked to some of the Americans, and apparently, he’s always been this unstable.”

Halim places his right hand on her thigh.

“This one man Joseph hated him. He said one thing, though, that I never fully realized.”

“Which is…?”

“Robert was…He was really good friends with Kazimir.”

Halim frowns. “Yeah, but despite that, he’s been compliant with information.”

“I know, but do you think he’s regretful? Fuck. Joseph also told me Robert was on suicide watch for a while, and I just—Robert tried talking to us after the training incident, and I should have listened. I don’t want him to end up like my father.”

“Who’s Joseph?” Prussia asks dully.

Halim removes his hand off of Ilse’s leg just as she frowns and looks at him. “An American.”

“I got that. How does he know all this stuff? What’s his position?”

“He was the Nation Advisor after Robert.”

“Oh.” Prussia shifts, and surprisingly doesn’t feel a tremendous amount of pain. His medication must be kicking in.

“Robert will be here today,” Halim murmurs. “So you can try talking to him again if you want.”

Ilse deflates. “Yeah…”

Prussia watches the passing landscape, missing whatever Ilse then asks him after a few moments.

“Sorry, what?”

“How’s that bucket list of yours going?”

_Oh. Right._

“We went horseback riding? That was on it,” Prussia mumbles. “And you’re contacting those people.”

Ilse frowns. “When I take you to the doctor’s office on Friday, we’re making it more extensive. No complaints.”

“Fine…”

After a few more minutes, they pull into security; then drive to the garage once their car is checked.

Ilse and Halim climb out first after parking, using a special ramp to unload Prussia and his wheelchair. When situated, they make their way over to the elevator, Ilse pushing him.

Prussia looks around and frowns. “There’s some dude just standing over there, doing nothing.”

Halim and Ilse don’t seem bothered by it. Prussia’s stomach hurts. “He could be a part of security,” Halim says, not even glancing in the man’s direction.

“Yeah, you’re probably right…”

They get to the elevator, and just as Halim goes to press the up button, something falls out of his pocket.

“Why do you have a passport on you?” Ilse asks after he stoops over to pick it up.

He puts it back in his pocket. “It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it, then?”

Halim frowns.

“…It’s my niece’s,” he mumbles once they get into the elevator. “Her face is there, and…it’s a nice picture.”

Ilse puts her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…”

“Wait, can I see it?” Prussia blurts out, his heart rate increasing.

Halim blinks. “Sure. But I mean, the picture isn’t too different from what’s on record of her as Palestine.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Suit yourself…”

He hands it over, and Prussia stares, feeling something indescribable.

_Juhaina Metwaly._

_She really is his…_

Ilse’s phone vibrates.

She takes it out and glances at the lock screen. “The others just arrived; we’ll go to the meeting room first and wait for them there.”

Prussia blinks, handing back the passport in a daze. “How long is this thing supposed to last?”

“We’re slated to have a three-hour session, then a break, and then another three-hour session,” Halim answers, pocketing it.

“That sounds awful.”

“Yeah.”

They enter the lobby, and with each passing moment as they walk to the meeting room, Prussia feels anxiety creep up his throat.

It’s crowded, just like the garage was with cars, and from a glance, everything looks normal.

But Prussia feels off.

It was the same on April 18th, the day when Russia and America got shot.

“Ilse,” he chokes out.

She frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need the better pain medication?” Halim asks. “I have it here like I said I would. Let me go fetch it.”

“Wait—”

Halim leaves just as Ilse wheels Prussia into the meeting room. It’s not the Chamber Hall they were kept in the last time; rather a small, closed-in meeting room with rows of chairs and a podium in the back center. There are no windows either, just one single door.

There are a lot of people inside too—a mix of past Nation Advisors, military officials, and UN workers

“Are you okay?” France asks.

Prussia nearly shits his pants. “Y-Yeah.” He sees that everyone else has arrived.

France frowns. “You know, we had a conversation like this at the last UN meeting.”

“I’m nervous for no reason. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? God, it only—”

Spain walks over, and France cuts himself off.

_Are we all talking to each other again, or what?_

Spain doesn’t make eye contact. “Listen, Gilbert, I’m—”

“EVERYONE TAKE THEIR SEATS!” someone announces from the podium.

“I’m—”

“NOW!”

Ilse comes over and wheels Prussia to the end of the Nation row, away from France or Spain.

 _Great_.

“Where’s Halim?” he mumbles when Ilse’s finished positioning him.

“He should be back soon.”

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۲۰)

 _20 May 2015_  

“But, Dalia—”

“Just wait a little longer.”

They’re in a secret room used for security purposes; dressed in military clothes, have gas masks and guns on the floor next to them.

Mongolia and Kazakhstan are calm. Kyrgyzstan can’t stop moving.

Juhaina feels like she’s being strangled.

Dalia is trying to comfort her, but it’s not working.

“Just wait a little longer,” she repeats.

Juhaina closes her eyes.

* * *

 

May 20, 2015

Robert is pacing. He’s supposed to be in the meeting room, but now he’s outside of it because the time is getting close.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—_

“Robert?”

He jerks and looks to see who said that, assuming it’s probably another insider.

Instead, it’s Halim.

He’s holding some pill bottles.

“What?” Robert snaps.

Halim frowns. “Could it kill you to be pleasant?”

He feels a vein forming. “Does it even matter?”

“I honestly have no idea why the fuck Ilse is concerned about you.”

“Wow, you don’t sound like a happy prick for once.”

“Have fun brooding,” Halim sneers, walking away.

_You’re going to be dead soon._

_You—You and—_

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _20_ _일_  

It’s five minutes into the stupid meeting, and South Korea is already fed up with it. The chairs are uncomfortable, everyone is tense…

Three hours seems like a daunting amount of time.

When Hong Kong’s arm brushes against his leg, though, he feels some tension seep out of him. He then sighs, looking around to try and distract himself. He happens to glance at Prussia at the end of the row, who appears…pale and extremely tense.

The door opens. People turn their heads to see who it is, but the speaker doesn’t give a shit and keeps talking about God knows what. It’s Halim who comes in, holding some pill bottles.

He glances at Prussia’s state, makes eye contact with Ilse, and then they lead him out of the room.

South Korea tries not to be jealous.

* * *

 

(20 май 2015 года)

 _20 May 2015_  

Kazimir is a wreck.

_I just have to trust everyone. I just have to trust him._

_Nothing can happen to him._

_If something does, I’ll—_

* * *

 

“Why are we leaving?” Prussia forces out when they’re alone in the hallway.

Ilse frowns. “Gilbert, you don’t look good.”

“There’s an infirmary. Let’s go there for a bit. You can take these pills and wait for the effect to set in,” Halim adds on. “Besides, do you feel _that_ compelled to stay in the meeting?”

“No, but won’t someone get angry if we leave?”

“As long as the others stay, we’re fine. Besides, I’m your Nation Advisor, so I’m allowed to do this,” Ilse responds. “The rest have their own advisors in the room. It’s not an issue, don’t worry.”

“What about Halim? He’s the program director. Doesn’t he have to stay?”

Halim is dismissive. “I don’t have to give my presentation until later.”

They keep walking, and Prussia squirms in his wheelchair.

It’s silent.

It’s really silent.

“Where the hell is everyone?” he chokes out.

“What do you mean?” Ilse asks.

“It’s like this building is suddenly deserted.”

* * *

 

Robert stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

_What if this is a mistake?_

The time on his watch is telling him he needs to get into place.

But— 

* * *

 

“Two minutes,” Mongolia whispers, putting on her gas mask.

Juhaina swallows.

 _I don’t know what I’m doing._  

* * *

 

 

“Everyone must be in the meeting room,” Halim responds, seeming unconcerned.

“Even security?” 

* * *

 

Robert exits the bathroom.

He has to get to the main lobby, near the garage. It should take him five minutes.

He wants to throw up. 

* * *

 

Ilse frowns. “I’m sure it’s okay.”

“I still don’t feel good about—”

Something explodes.


	25. (Zusammenstoß), (تصادم), (충돌), (столкновение), (Collision)

All at once, everything becomes chaotic.

The entire building shakes, Prussia’s wheelchair almost tips over, and Halim and Ilse lose their balance.

_What the fuck; what the fuck—_

Prussia stands up, his adrenaline dulling his pain.

_Focus. Maybe it was just one freak—_

Multiple explosions happen at the same time. Suddenly gas starts to ooze rapidly out of the vents.

_Shit._

Gunshots.

Screams.

_SHIT._

More explosions; all within mere seconds.

“TAKE OFF YOUR SUIT COATS AND TIE THEM AROUND YOUR FACES!” Prussia screams in Arabic. “THEY’RE GASSING THE PLACE.”

Ilse and Halim look like deer caught in headlights.

“NOW!”

Ilse and Halim scramble as more explosions happen, standing up and ripping off their jackets. Prussia wildly looks around, searching for someone else, _anyone_ else _._

But there’s no one.

_Do something; do something—_

“THE GARAGE!” Prussia shouts. “IT SHOULD BE SAFE!”

He actually doesn’t know if that’s true. There was that strange man earlier, but fuck, he’s acting on pure instinct. He grabs Halim and Ilse’s hands, using both of his arms, and starts sprinting. They stumble after him. More explosions, but they sound like they’re concentrated behind them. There’s no one. Prussia feels like they should have seen at least one person by now—

Dead bodies.

The gas is quickly filling up the building. Prussia feels his lungs squeeze as they turn the corner. There are more dead bodies. More—

There’s Robert.

Two figures are in front of him, dressed in black, wearing gas masks and armed to the teeth.

Another explosion.

 _Robert is in danger_.

The one figure removes their mask. It’s a girl. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

_Robert is in danger._

Prussia steps forward, into the armed figure’s line of sight. He drops Ilse and Halim’s hands in the process.

Robert sees him and freezes.

Another explosion. Gunshots.

The girl without the gas mask blinks, suddenly seeming terrified.

 _Robert is in danger_.

Something clicks in Prussia’s head. He recognizes this girl.

She’s one of the missing Nations.

Ilse grabs Prussia out of fear. Halim starts coughing uncontrollably. Robert looks like he’s getting sick from the gas.

Prussia forces himself to enter his duel state.

* * *

 

[7:51]

The room’s in a frenzy.

South Korea stumbles out of his chair, grabbing both Taiwan and Hong Kong as everyone shouts things at each other. Half the room whips out guns, but they’re just random Nation Advisors, scattered, all over the place.

There’s no clear order.

Multiple explosions; all close. South Korea almost falls to the ground. Taiwan steadies him, though, clutching his arm so hard her knuckles are white.

All of their presences are expanding.

“What are you doing!?”

“ _Shut up_!”

“You can’t think this’ll change anything!”

Another explosion.

South Korea’s vision is blurring. He doesn’t know how to process what’s happening and desperately looks at China, who’s rigid. He and Russia are holding each other’s arms. South Korea turns his head to see where America is—

Prussia’s presence.

It’s been weak this past month, so now—

_He’s in a duel state._

Spain and France turn frantic. They’re looking at the door.

There are gunshots outside, screams.

“Francis, Antonio, no,” England urges, chokes out as the Nation Advisors cock their guns, but—

they start moving.

They charge forward in opposite directions, eyes turning bright red, going after two people who are armed.

The other Nations realize they have to act as well.

It’s like everything slows down. South Korea finds himself jerking forward, zeroing in on those who have weapons.

The enemies.

Hong Kong and Taiwan are following him.

_Shit, no, you two are barely trained._

He’s running towards some Chinese man. The man is frozen. It’s clear he’s not militarily skilled. He’s old. He just seems like some random government official.

Harmless.

But he has a gun.

South Korea lets himself go and enters his duel state. 

* * *

 

[7:54]

“He’s supposed to be here by now,” Dalia says, sounding more and more nervous. Her gas mask is off so she can communicate; the area where they are isn’t being that affected.

Kazakhstan is rigid; she takes off her mask as well. “Let’s go find him.”

Juhaina feels her blood run cold.

“What?” Dalia chokes out, her skin pale.

“We need to find him. We can’t leave without—”

An explosion.

Kazakhstan frantically stands up. “Put on your gas mask. Let’s go.” 

* * *

 

[7:55] 

South Korea disarms the Chinese man; then shoots him in the head.

The room erupts in chaos. 

* * *

 

[7:54]

Kazimir is staring at his desk.

_Robert should be with Palestine, Israel, and Kazakhstan by now. He should be escaping._

_He’ll be okay; he’ll be okay; he’ll be—_  

* * *

 

[7:55] 

Juhaina’s heart is beating erratically.

They run down the empty hallway, passing by bodies that Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan seem to have taken care of.

There are explosions.

Gas.

Screams.

She’s close to having a panic attack, but she keeps running. She’s lagging behind Kazakhstan and Dalia. They’re about to turn a corner—

Kazakhstan abruptly stops.

Juhaina nearly runs into her. She’s frazzled, wondering what could have made her freeze.

And then she sees it.

Him.

The ‘wild card.’

He’s staring down Kyrgyzstan. Behind him are two people, both with suit jackets tied around their noses and mouths.

Her eyes are then drawn to Robert, the man they’re supposed to escort. He’s off to the side, frozen.

The man with the suit jacket around his mouth starts coughing. The woman grabs Prussia’s arm.

Prussia’s eyes turn bright red.

Suddenly, his presence is everywhere. Juhaina has never felt such a sensation before, and it _hurts_. She feels overwhelmed, suffocated.

Prussia shakes off the woman’s arm, and then—

He looked injured, but now Juhaina can see him rapidly healing. He stands up straighter. His once injured right side is no longer malformed, and his skin loses its gray tint.

He charges forward.

Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan are somehow rendered helpless.

Juhaina saw them during the breakout. They were monsters. She knows their capabilities.

But with the way Prussia is using his presence, he knows something that they don’t.

Kyrgyzstan reaches for her gun, but she’s a second too late. Prussia knocks it out of her hand; then slams her to the ground with arguable ease. When doing so, his presence gets even stronger. Mongolia tries to react, but Prussia grabs Kyrgyzstan’s gun and pulls the trigger.

The bullets rip through her body.

Mongolia falls. Kyrgyzstan has the wind knocked out of her, so it takes her a second to move, but Prussia slams the butt of the gun on her neck and breaks it before she can do anything.

He then shoots her in the head.

Dread overcomes Juhaina, but suddenly all of that is forgotten when the suit coat falls off the man’s face.

Somehow, it’s her uncle.

* * *

 

[7:57] 

Half of the room is dead.

South Korea is bleeding; he’s barely clinging to life.

He blocked Hong Kong from some woman with a pistol, but that was a mistake. The bullet hit him in the leg when they dove for cover.

It’s lodged in there.

He’s _burning_. He knows it was a poison bullet. Fuck—

Spain and France sprint to the door, both covered in blood. Everyone is.

_Burning._

There are remaining officials, the good guys, supposedly. All are shell-shocked.

South Korea doesn’t care about them.

_Bu̷rn̴ing._

Hong Kong says something to him, his voice strangled. South Korea tries to focus but can’t.

He can’t understand Cantonese.

He can barely understand what’s happening.

Explosions.

France and Spain open the door, and gas fills the room.

Coughs. South Korea sees Taiwan cough. Canada is with her. America, he’s with Japan and England. He’s bloodier than the two of them. _Did he_ —

Russia is suddenly pulling South Korea forward, and the pain from his leg increases tenfold. Hong Kong starts saying something, frantically. China responds. No, he’s yelling. His hair is out of its usual ponytail.

The pain is climbing up further.

_Bu̧͘r҉n̶i̶n̴g.͜͡ ̶̕͜_

They start filing into the hallway, Spain and France leading. South Korea is leaning on China since he can’t walk himself. He doesn’t know when that happened. The leftover government officials follow them, say stuff.

Demand things.

France and Spain scream at them.

They scream back.

Shouts.

Explosions.

Hong Kong is looking at him. He’s there.

 _B̵̴u̷̢r̴̢̢̛n̵̡͘i̷҉͏n͘҉̵͘͢ģ̶.̸̧̨͡ ̸̧_  

* * *

 

[7:57] 

The two Nations are dead.

Prussia is functioning off of an adrenaline rush. He feels more alive than he has in _years_. He can suddenly sense presences again; is so much stronger.

Fuck, his shoulder and thumb are _healed._

He looks back at Ilse, Halim, and Robert to make sure they’re safe. They all seem frozen, but—

_That’s okay. At least they’re alive. The immediate danger is gone. We just need to make it to the garage._

“Uncle?”

Another girl comes around the corner, her gas mask off. Two others are behind her, both rigid and gesturing her back.

Prussia recognizes the girl, and the world seems to freeze.

Palestine.

Halim’s niece.

He can’t sense her presence, though, and warning sirens go off in his head.

Halim is still coughing, but his expression twists. “J-Juhaina?”

Prussia looks at Ilse frantically. They need to go to the garage. They need to be safe. That’s the main priority. That’s—He readies his gun. He can take her out. He looks at Robert. Robert should know how to get there. He can take Ilse and Halim while Prussia—

Robert is aiming a gun at him. 

* * *

 

[7:59]

Prussia’s presence goes out like a light.

South Korea hears Spain yell a slew of curses.

The direction they were going is blocked. There’s a collapsed wall in front of them, so they’re trapped; they have to head the other way.

France is arguing with England.

The humans with them are shouting.

More gunshots.

China slams South Korea to the wall and pushes back Taiwan and Hong Kong with him. He and Russia then take a protective stance and start shooting.

South Korea can barely sustain his own weight. He’s becoming more delusional.

B̶̨̠̙̭͈̙͙͚̗͢͟ṵ̵̯͇̥̰̪̝͡ͅr̵̯̮̜͕͎̝̱̱̭̪̭͈̲n̛͓̜͉̝͙̲̬̜̻̱͞͝ͅͅi҉̶̨҉͚͔͔̲̯̞̪̤͎̩̱̬̤͕ͅͅn̜̬͕̱̕͞g̴̡̨͙̯͙̟̣̥̫͇̦̼̜̮̹̳.̢̢̧̳̤̝̪̪̜͇̰̝̗͜ ͕̩̥̻͙̻̠̠͍̥̪̰̖͜

Some of the humans start running.

Oh, South Korea is being tugged that way too. Hong Kong is pulling him. Canada and Taiwan are also there, Russia and China following.

_Where’s everyone else?_

Gunshots. Gas. China and Russia disappear.

B̋ͧͩͭ͋̓̃ͥͣͭ͒̌̆͞҉̭͖͍͚͚̙̖u̡ͭ͒ͩ͆̄͛̏̚̚̕͟҉̤̭͙͖̘̭̠͉̱̟̯ͅͅrͥ͒͑̆̇̈́ͤ͝҉҉̷̻̥̗̖̬̲̥̜̲̭͉̺̩̳͙̯ǹ̶̨͇͕̪̻͖͖̜̖̼̟͎ͫͫͤͦͥ̄̀̈̓ͦͧ̀̔̚̚ͅi͙̘̼̤̭͍̫̽͌̓̍ͭ͜n̛͚̦̟̘̺̪̙̞͖̺̝̙̩̬͛ͫ͐́̅̽͋͂͟g̊̿ͧ̓̊͋ͤ̒ͮ͒̑ͮͦ͝͡͏̨̻̱͉̖͙͚̲̟̙̺̝.̪͔̳̻̮̝̫̹̣̬͖̽̈̄̒ͪ̑͜͡ͅ ̨̛̟̘̼̑̈ͨ̈ͪͬ̒̍ͬͬ̽͌̌͑̑̓ͅ

Down the hall, there’s an entrance, a hole in a wall. It looks like a bunker. Humans are filing inside.

Until someone open-fires.

Canada shoves South Korea, Taiwan, and Hong Kong down to the ground and starts shooting his own machine gun. He gets shot, his arm becomes mangled, but he takes care of the threat.

The human is dead.

Hong Kong and Taiwan force South Korea up, but he collapses. He screams. He’s incoherent.

B̋ͧͩͭ͋̓̃ͥͣͭ͒̌̆͞҉̭͖͍͚͚̙̖u̡ͭ͒ͩ͆̄͛̏̚̚̕͟҉̤̭͙͖̘̭̠͉̱̟̯ͅͅrͥ͒͑̆̇̈́ͤ͝҉҉̷̻̥̗̖̬̲̥̜̲̭͉̺̩̳͙̯ǹ̶̨͇͕̪̻͖͖̜̖̼̟͎ͫͫͤͦͥ̄̀̈̓ͦͧ̀̔̚̚ͅi͙̘̼̤̭͍̫̽͌̓̍ͭ͜n̛͚̦̟̘̺̪̙̞͖̺̝̙̩̬͛ͫ͐́̅̽͋͂͟g̊̿ͧ̓̊͋ͤ̒ͮ͒̑ͮͦ͝͡͏̨̻̱͉̖͙͚̲̟̙̺̝.̪͔̳̻̮̝̫̹̣̬͖̽̈̄̒ͪ̑͜͡ͅ ̨̛̟̘̼̑̈ͨ̈ͪͬ̒̍ͬͬ̽͌̌͑̑̓ͅ

Hong Kong is crying.

Taiwan is shouting.

Canada yells at them as Hong Kong drags South Korea, drags him into the bunker. Inside is just a staircase leading God knows where.

Someone is running down the hallway with a bomb strapped to their chest.

Taiwan exerts her strength and violently pushes Canada inside. He stumbles, knocking into everyone, causing South Korea to lose his balance and start falling.

An explosion.

He catches the doorway caving in and becoming covered by rubble.

He then blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the song I imagined to this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjAK8D5ytiU


	26. What am I doing?

_May 20, 2015_  

Prussia’s body falls.

Robert is frozen as Ilse screams. His hands are shaking. He drops his arm; points the gun at the ground.

He can’t believe he just did that.

Another explosion.

Ilse whirls around and faces him, shrieking in German.

Halim is coughing, staring at Palestine as Kazakhstan rips off her mask and speaks in English. “We need to get moving. Robert, should we kill the other humans?”

He feels the world close around him when Ilse and Halim freeze.

“No,” Palestine chokes out, also in English.

“Palestine, this is not your decision,” Kazakhstan snaps.

Israel removes her mask. “But, that—that’s him. Her uncle. Y-You—”

An explosion. Screams.

Kazakhstan checks the watch she’s wearing; then gets more frantic. She aims her gun at Ilse. “Robert, we need to go. Should I kill these humans or not?”

Ilse’s eyes widen. Halim becomes rigid.

“No,” Robert blurts out. His throat is tightening, and he resists the urge to cough. His eyes are also starting to burn.

Kazakhstan frowns, seeming torn. “Then what should we do with them?”

“Call for backup,” Israel rushes out. “We need—We need someone to grab Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan.”

“I won’t cooperate,” Ilse spits out in English.

An explosion.

“You _killed_ him,” she continues, screaming. “The other two are clearly healing, but he’s still bleeding out!”

“Uncle,” Palestine begs. “I don’t know why you’re here, but please. _Please_.”

Halim appears shell-shocked. Robert starts coughing.

“We need to get him to the garage,” Kazakhstan says frantically. “The gas is affecting him.”

“I’ll grab Mongolia,” Israel rushes out. “Kazakhstan, you can get Kyrgyzstan. And Juhaina, make sure your uncle and the woman cooperate.”

Ilse steps back, coughing. “I’m not—”

“We’ll take the Prussian Nation Avatar too,” Robert blurts out. Sweat is building up under his armpits.

“Ilse, we have no choice,” Halim chokes. He’s struggling to breathe.

Kazakhstan is paling. “But we—we don’t have anyone to drag the other Nation’s body.”

“I’ll do it,” Robert says immediately. He walks over, forcing himself to breathe in, and grabs the back of Prussia’s shirt. It’s soaked in blood.

_You did this._

Explosions. Screams.

_This was your idea._

_For what? For Frank? To create chaos?_

Palestine points a gun at Ilse. Halim seems dazed.

_To see Kazimir?_

Robert’s chest clenches.

“Please, Ilse,” Halim begs. “If you don’t listen, they’ll hurt you.”

Robert is hit with a wave of regret.

All he can see is his sister staring at him in disgust.

* * *

 

Dragging a body is harder work than he anticipated.

It doesn’t help that he can barely breathe, that Ilse is screaming, that there are explosions and dead bodies and—

“There you are!” someone screams when they reach the lobby. Robert’s vision is blurring, but he knows they’re an insider.

He collapses.  

* * *

  
 

“You can’t die; you can’t fucking die,” a man is hissing at him when they reach their getaway truck. Robert was carried there, somehow. He can’t remember.

He coughs, feeling like he’s choking.

“If this man dies, Kazimir will freak out,” a woman says.

Explosion.

“And this fucker is bringing along two outsiders and a dead Nation too?! We’re not equipped to handle that!”

“We need oxygen.”

“Yeah. Okay. Where the hell would we even get some?”

There’s a new voice. “What we need is to escape. Our window of time is closing. We have to make it across the border to France before the Swiss government shuts everything down.”

“The woman is being unruly.”

“We have sedatives. Use them on her.”

“Use them on the man too.”

Robert vomits.

“Good; that will clear out some of the toxins,” a person mutters.

He’s shaking as he’s led to a van and put in the back. Palestine, Israel, and Kazakhstan are with him, and there are two people up front. There’s a divider between them and the back seats, and in the trunk, under a tarp, are the bodies of Kyrgyzstan, Mongolia, and Prussia. Once Ilse and Halim are drugged, they’re thrown back there too, handcuffed, limbs restrained.

Robert keeps coughing. The van pulls out. It’s chaos outside.

The woman and man driving were once a part of the Swiss security team, and the van they’re in is a security vehicle, so they’re able to skirt by everything amidst the chaos.

Robert hears helicopters, people screaming.

Crying.

His head’s becoming foggy. They enter a tunnel, and—

* * *

 

“We need to get to the port town. The boat is waiting.”

“No, we need to take a detour. Those sedatives aren’t going to last forever. Plus, the other two Nation Avatars should be waking up soon, and Donati’s health is a concern.”

“Is he still asleep?”

“Let me open up the divider.”

“He’s still asleep,” Israel nearly whispers.

“Is he breathing?”

Robert opens his eyes.

Everyone is staring at him. He moves his mouth to say something; then starts coughing.

“See,” the woman mutters. “His health is a concern.”

The man frowns. “But if we’re not on time, Kazimir is going to be—”

Robert forces himself to stop coughing. “Where—Where even are we? What time is it?”

“It’s been two hours since the event,” the man says, keeping his eyes on the road since he’s driving.

“We’re half-way to Marseille,” the woman supplements. “I think we should stop soon to recuperate, though.”

“But then the boat will leave without us,” the man hisses.

“Not if we contact our escort, David.”

“ _How_?”

“One of us can drop the others off at the motel; then drive to Marseille and explain everything.”

David chews his lip. “Fine.”

Robert starts coughing again.

* * *

 

They pull into some really small town in the middle of nowhere.

“Nina, there’s not going to be a motel or youth hostel here,” David mutters.

“There could be a bed and breakfast.”

“Great. Then if hypothetically we find one, how the hell are we going to get the bodies out of the trunk and into someone’s house?”

Nina frowns. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“There are the tarps,” Palestine mumbles. “We could wrap them inside and carry them.”

“Yeah, because that wouldn’t look suspicious at all,” David grumbles.

The roads they’re driving on are shit, and Robert keeps getting jostled in his seat. The houses outside look ancient and clumped together too, and there are people out and about, most looking at their van in confusion.

“Pull over and ask someone where there’s a bed and breakfast,” Nina demands.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Fine, I’ll ask. Just pull over.”

David mutters something in German but complies. Nina then hops out and approaches a group of old ladies, greeting them in French.

The car is silent except for its engine until Robert breaks out into a coughing fit.

“You better not be dying on us,” David mutters.

Robert glares at him. “Fuck off.”

He says something back in German.

“Is the delay going to be an issue?” Kazakhstan blurts out in English. “Are we going to get in trouble?”

David blinks. “I don’t bloody know. Kazimir’s probably going to be pissed at all of us.”

Kazakhstan frowns.

He jerks his head in Robert’s direction. “As long as this cunt remains alive, though, we’ll be okay.”

Robert feels a vein forming. “You didn’t _have_ to become involved in this.”

“No, I didn’t. But I did because Kazimir’s ideals made sense. And then somewhere along the way, he became obsessed with  _you_.”

Robert feels his throat constrict.

Nina opens the door and hops back inside. “One of those ladies actually owns a bed and breakfast that’s down the road. She was very friendly and gave me its key so we can settle in before she arrives.”

“That’s convenient,” David responds, pulling the car off the curb.

“Yeah. She also made fun of my French. It’s my first language. I hate French people.”

Robert zones out, his head spinning.

_Why would Kazimir be obsessed with me? Why would he—_

_He’s been begging me to come join him for years._

Robert leans his head against the window, feeling a headache begin to form. He tries to suppress another coughing attack but fails.

They pull up to an old stone house on the edge of town.

“Is everyone that lives here over the age of sixty?” David mutters, looking at the people milling around.

Nina shrugs. “At least Donati will fit right in.”

He clenches his jaw.

“Let’s get them out of the trunk now,” Palestine blurts out. Kazakhstan and Israel shush her. She ignores them. “The humans, plus Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan—we have to get them into the house.”

“You three have super strength or whatever, right?” Nina mutters. “Go for it. I can’t lift them.”

Robert coughs. David parks the car.

Palestine rushes outside, Israel scrambling after her. As Robert climbs out, he watches Israel grab Palestine’s arm, and how she freezes in response. She’s frantic. Israel tries to calm her. They’re speaking in languages that he can’t understand, but he recognizes their body language.

Kazimir used to act like that with Frank.

Robert stumbles away from the car and vomits on the pavement.

“ _Again_?” David sneers.

He ignores him, getting distracted by Kazakhstan since she approaches him with a water bottle. He stares at her in bafflement, but pathetically wipes his mouth and grabs it.

Palestine then moves to open the trunk as he takes a sip, but Nina frowns and holds up her hand. “Wait, I change my mind. Let’s take a look inside first before we do anything.”

The house is tiny but tall. There are four stories—a basement, a ground floor, an upper level with two bedrooms and a bathroom, and a top level that’s just one master bedroom.

“We can lock Richter and Anwar in the master bedroom,” Nina mutters to David. Robert is sitting on the couch in the living room, trying to catch his breath after walking up so many flights of stairs. “And we can take one bedroom, Donati can take the other, and the Nations can sleep in the basement.”

David frowns. “Fine. But what about the Prussian Nation Avatar?”

“We’ll throw his body in the master bath or something.”

“How are we even paying for this?”

Nina is dismissive. “Kazimir gave us some extra money. We’re good; don’t worry.”

“What about our safety? Staying in one place for this long could be dangerous.”

“All the video feeds of us leaving have been fucked with, so no one knows where we are. We should be okay.”

It’s still. Palestine, Israel, and Kazakhstan are hovering by the front door.

Nina looks out the window. “It seems like the streets are empty now. I guess just try to bring them in without looking suspicious.”

“That’s not possible,” David mutters.

Palestine hurries out to the car, and the other two girls follow. Robert stares at the door, his vision blurring.

David and Nina approach him.

“What’s wrong with you. Like, what medications do you need?” Nina asks. “I can go to a pharmacy.”

Robert opens his mouth to say something but coughs. “I don’t—it feels like the gas is stuck in my lungs,” he says after clearing his throat.

Nina frowns. “That should fade, though. What else?”

“Other than that, I’m fine,” Robert snaps, which is a lie.

Palestine stumbles through the door and nearly loses her balance. She’s holding someone wrapped in a tarp. David runs over to help, then gags. “Holy shit; that smell.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to get him to the top floor,” Palestine blurts out.

Robert stands up on impulse. “With two people you could probably—”

“Sit down,” Nina interrupts. “Here, I’ll help.”

They carefully make their way up the stairs. The tarp becomes loose in the process, though, exposing Halim’s face.

There’s vomit and blood smeared on it.

Robert feels sick again. He sits back down.

_I did this._

_I did this; I did this—_

He needs a release. Alcohol. Cutting. He could—

Kazimir. He wants to talk to Kazimir.

Robert laughs to himself, nearly hysterical.

David scrunches up his eyebrows. 

* * *

 

It’s noon. David just left to go to the port and should be back in four hours.

Robert is dazed.

They somehow got all the bodies up to the third floor. Among them is Prussia, who’s still dead. He seems better, though, but.

Robert’s not sure if he’s just being delusional.

Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan are alive again and cleaned up while Halim and Ilse are also semi-conscious.

Whatever drugs they were given, though, are still affecting them. Both of them are on the master bed. Palestine persuaded Nina to take off their restraints, and they’re dressed in some sweats that had been packed.

Prussia is in the bathroom, in the bathtub. Out of sight.

And Robert, he’s in the master bedroom with everyone because he doesn’t know what else to do.

He wants Ilse to regain full consciousness, wants to apologize; shit, just have a conversation with her.

But she’s not even coherent enough to talk.

Nina practically had to force her to drink, cursing Robert out the entire time for wanting to ‘keep that woman alive.’ Halim isn’t much better either. The most he’s done is say Palestine’s name, then retch.

Robert’s currently sitting on the floor. His joints are aching, and he knows he’ll need help standing later, but he doesn’t have the energy to care.

All he wants is Kazimir.

He clenches his jaw; then coughs, causing Kyrgyzstan to look at him. It’s just him and the other Nations since Nina left to go shopping.

Robert decides he doesn’t want to be in this room anymore.

He tries to stand up and fails pathetically.

“I can help,” Kazakhstan rushes out, polite as ever. She extends her hand.

Robert stares at the ground, mumbles “thanks,” then grabs it. As she hoists him up, Kyrgyzstan watches them, sneering something in what sounds like Russian. Kazakhstan snaps a response back, and Kyrgyzstan opens her mouth again to make another comment, but Mongolia interrupts her, looking bored.

Israel and Palestine, meanwhile, are off in the corner, practically cuddling.

Robert shuffles out of the room.

He ends up in the kitchen and immediately grabs a knife, knowing he should turn on the news, but absolutely terrified at what he’ll see since _everything_ is his fault.

All because he wants to see Kazimir.

He’s about to press down the knife into his arm just as someone places their hand on his shoulder. Robert jumps, dropping it.

It’s Kyrgyzstan.

“Why the fuck were you holding that?” she blurts out in English.

His vision is blurry. “What do you want?”

Kyrgyzstan blinks. “Well, I _was_ going to apologize for what I said because Kazakhstan insisted, but fine, screw you.”

Neither of them moves.

“I can’t understand Russian,” Robert finds himself mumbling. “So I don’t even know what you said in the first place.”

“…Oh.”

There’s a long, uncomfortable pause. Robert wants nothing more than to pick that knife back up.

“I respect Kazimir a lot,” Kyrgyzstan eventually mutters.

“…”

“I really respect him. Mongolia thinks I idolize him, but…He changed my life for the better! So I want to devote myself to him, but now he’s being irrational over _you_.”

Robert has no idea how to respond, which seems to annoy the girl. Before she can say anything, though, Mongolia walks down the steps.

She says something in Russian.

“He can’t understand,” Kyrgyzstan mutters.

Mongolia blinks. “Oh.”

“Please leave me alone,” Robert mutters, staring at the knife.

He’s painfully aware that all these Nations could rebel and murder him in two seconds.

Mongolia walks over and puts her hand on Kyrgyzstan’s shoulder; then moves in a fluid motion and grabs the knife, as well as the entire wooden block of them. “Let’s go back upstairs,” she mumbles.

Kyrgyzstan sighs.

As soon as they’re gone, Robert stumbles over to the couch.

It takes everything in his power to hold it together.

* * *

 

David comes back irrationally pissed off.

Robert is still in the living room, Nina having joined him. The others are upstairs.

“What’s wrong?” Nina asks, glancing up from her book. Robert, meanwhile, has been staring at the blank TV for God knows how long.

David jabs his finger at him. “It’s your fault.”

Robert dully blinks.

“I got chewed out by our transporter!”

“It had to be done,” Nina attempts to mediate.

“Yeah, but, God; he went on forever, and Kazimir was pissed.”

“Wait, you contacted him?” Robert blurts out.

“Oh. Yeah. Here,” David takes out one of those clunky Soviet laptops from the bag slung over his shoulder.

Robert’s breath catches in his throat.

“It’s almost out of battery,” David mutters. “But you can send a couple of messages, apparently. It was _supposed_ to be reserved for when we make it to Cagliari after the three-day boat ride, but Kazimir would rather you message him now.”

Robert snatches the laptop, his heart beating erratically.

David stares, his expression laced with a tinge of disgust. “We have to leave at 4 AM tomorrow.”

“Fantastic,” Nina mumbles as Robert frantically boots up the system.

A couple of painful moments later, it’s fully operational.

> **Дата Вход** : 20.05.15 
> 
> **Henry** : kazimir it’s me robert i’m okay

He holds his breath.

Kazimir logs on immediately. 

> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Good
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : Good please be safe you can make it through the next coupel fo days
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I am sorry our commmunciation is imited but I am so happy I can talk to you right now
> 
> **Henry** : this computer is almost out of battery
> 
> **Казимир** : That is fine pelase be safe. I trust Nina and David they will take care of you I promise
> 
> **Henry** : i made them take ilse and halim and prussia
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I know David told me do not worry about it it will work out I trust you made the right decision I trust you
> 
> **Казим** **и́** **р** : I trust you with all my heart.

Robert blinks, feeling a wave of—shit, he doesn’t know what—overcome him.

Followed by nausea.

He sees Kazimir typing, but the computer runs out of battery.

He makes a noise; then immediately hates himself. He can feel Nina and David staring.

Judging.

Nina frowns. “That ran out of battery fast.”

_I’m just a replacement for Frank._

David shrugs. “These things are shit, but they’re secure.”

_Fuck._

_“…with all my heart.”_

_Fuck—_

He shuts the laptop.

“How are the others?” David then mumbles to Nina.

“Haven’t checked, to be honest.”

“I will,” Robert blurts out, standing up. His heart is beating erratically. “I’ll check.”

Nina and David blink. “You do that,” David mutters.

Robert starts walking towards the stairs.

“I bought groceries if you want to help me cook,” Nina then says to David.

“What food…”

He doesn’t hear the rest.

_“…with all my heart.”_

He leans his head against the wall of the stairwell.

_What am I doing?_

An image of Kazimir in his thirties floats into Robert’s mind.

_He can’t be in love with me._

Robert forgets to breathe.

_Shit, he’s not. I’m being—_

_“…with all my heart.”_

_That’s just how he talks._

_He doesn’t even know me that well. He—_

_We’ve known each other for 60 years._

_No, no._

_He can’t be in love with me._

_I’m not in love with him._

_I’m—I’m weirdly fixated on him, but I’m not. He’s 89. I can’t be. He’s a man._

Suddenly all Robert can see is Frank.

_If I just made you wait one more day._

He continues climbing the stairs in an almost blind matter and ends up in front of the master bedroom.

He stares at its door, his vision blurring, his joints aching.

Arguing.

The Nations inside are arguing, but he can’t understand what they’re saying since a bunch of languages are being thrown around.

He stands there, his head spinning, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time.

_“…with all my heart.”_

Someone inside says his name, and he freezes.

A pause.

Then Kazimir’s name.

Robert impulsively opens the door.

All the Nations stop talking immediately as his eyes move to the master bed. Ilse and Halim are still unconscious.

“Do you need anything?” Kazakhstan asks in English.

Robert stands there like an idiot. “Sorry, I…I just wanted to check on Ilse and Halim.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Palestine murmurs.

“Oh.”

_She looks like him. She has his face, skin tone, hair._

_She really is his niece._

_How the fuck—_

_I know Nations didn’t just spring out of the ground, but._

Robert feels lightheaded.

“Are you going to faint again?” Kazakhstan asks, sounding concerned.

“Again?” Mongolia mutters, scrutinizing him. Robert sees the wooden block of knives hidden in the corner.

_Does anyone else know that this is Halim’s literal niece? Who even is Halim? He’s the Nation director of the UN; he’s from Jordan. But past that, I don’t know—_

“He’s getting pale,” Kyrgyzstan says.

_If he’s from Jordan, how is his niece Palestine?_

_How does she remember him?_

_Why don’t the other Nations have memories?_

Robert breaks out into a coughing fit; then realizes that somehow all of the Nations have surrounded him.

He panics. Israel says something; Kazakhstan pleads.

_“…with all my heart.”_

Nina opens the door, and everything becomes still.

“Um,” she eventually says, staring at Robert’s disastrous state.

He doesn’t even have the energy to snap something. He feels old, weak.

Hollow.

Mongolia looks annoyed. “What do you need?”

“David and I want to discuss matters with all of you Nations while dinner is cooking.”

Kyrgyzstan looks unbothered by this entire situation. “What are we having?”

“Italian.”

“Ew, why?”

“Kazimir informed us it’s Robert’s favorite type of food.”

Robert sucks in some air, anxiety climbing his throat.

“Come on,” Nina mutters. The Nations all glance at him; then follow her.

He’s left alone in the room.

Robert stumbles over to the bed, wanting to take a closer look at Ilse and Halim.

_Still asleep._

_Both are still…_

He walks to the bathroom and opens its door.

The smell is unbearable.

Robert slams the door shut, causing Halim to slur something in Arabic.

He turns around in a jerky motion, rushing back to the bedside. Halim’s eyes are open, but they appear cloudy.

They focus, though, when he sees Robert.

He says a single word in English. “You.”

Robert has no idea how to respond.

Halim’s expression becomes vicious. He sits up. “You did this.”

Robert blindly backs away.

“You _did_ this.” Halim’s tone shifts when he notices Ilse next to him. “Is—Is she okay?”

“She should be,” Robert chokes out. “The drugs are wearing off.”

Halim stares at her.

“If you two just cooperated, then this wouldn’t have—”

“Don’t pull this bullshit with me. Do not—Do not blame it on her for wanting to—fuck, I’m so angry. English is failing me.”

Robert is dazed. “Your niece is a Nation.”

“I know,” Halim snaps. “I’ve known for twenty-five years.”

_Oh._

“I was 27 when it happened. I’ve been trying to find my older sister’s daughter all this time.”

“That’s the only good thing that’s come out of this then,” Ilse mutters, clearing her throat.

Both Robert and Halim are startled.

“Because you’ve found her.”

“B-Babe, are you okay?” Halim rushes out.

_…Babe?_

Ilse sighs. “No, but I’ll get better.” She sits up. “Also, you slipped.”

Halim takes her hand. “Does it even matter anymore?”

She closes her eyes and murmurs something in Arabic.

Halim responds, his voice choked up, and Ilse leans over and kisses his forehead.

Robert feels like a deer caught in headlights.

Ilse glares at him after she moves away from Halim. “What do you want, Robert?”

He doesn’t know.

“Your cooperation,” is what comes out of his mouth.

“And why should—”

“I’ll have them kill you.”

“Really?” Ilse says, her voice lacking emotion.

Robert swallows. He can hear the ringing in his ears.

“What’s next?” she mumbles, her voice calm, yet her body beginning to shake. “What the fuck is next? Where are we even going?”

“Palestine. We’re going—Palestine.”

Ilse grips the sheets. “Is that where Kazimir is?”

Robert’s mouth is dry. “Yes.”

Voices are coming from downstairs.

“What’s next?” Ilse asks again. “What’s the point? So many people are dead now.”

“I—I’m well aware.”

“Then if you’re aware, how much of this was fake?” she spits out.

Robert is close to vomiting. “Of what?”

“You. Our relationship. _Everything_! Back when I met you in April, how much of that was fake!?”

“None of it,” Robert whispers.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!”

The voices from downstairs quiet.

“Where’s Gilbert?” his sister spits, moving to stand up. Halim grabs her arm to keep her still.

Robert is struggling to breathe. “In the bathroom. He’s—He’s still dead, but I think he’s healing.”

“What’s next?” his sister repeats.

Robert’s voice breaks. “I don’t know.”

“You’re so pathetic.”

“Ilse,” Halim murmurs.

She’s on the verge of tears. Halim grabs her hand again.

“You know what it’s like,” Robert finds himself saying. His vision is blurring again. “You’re a Nation Advisor. You can relate to how miserable I am. In the beginning, I was only pushing through everything because of Frank Radzinski. But then he killed himself, and Kazimir was—he was all I had. He’s all I had for years.”

“So you decided to blow up a UN building to be with him!?” Ilse sneers. “Decided to kill _all those people_ , betray your country, betray the Nations, just so you could be with him!?”

Robert feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He wants to say it would be for the chaos Kazimir keeps talking about.

But that would be lying.

“…Yes,” he whispers, absolutely disgusted with himself.

“Robert,” Halim mutters. “What’s going to happen to the two of us?”

His head is pounding. “I don’t know. I can keep you alive. Everyone is listening to my orders and acting like I’m important.” He laughs, but it comes out mangled. “But you can only stay alive if you cooperate, so it’s your choice.”

Ilse is shaking.

Halim frowns. “Fine. We’ll cooperate. Just please don’t drug us again.”

Robert nods and forces himself to turn around.

“Tell my niece not to talk to me,” Halim says just as he grabs the doorknob.

Ilse makes a noise. “Why? You finally—”

“I need to collect my thoughts first,” he says quietly, his voice breaking.

Robert nods again; then opens the door and leaves.

Nina and David are standing there.

“I don’t feel comfortable without them having restraints on,” Nina mutters.

Robert stumbles down the stairs. “Just keep them alive.” 

* * *

 

“We’re leaving at 4 AM tomorrow and driving to Marseille, where we’ll then take a boat to the Italian Isle, Sardinia. That will take three days, and then once there; we’ll take an aeroplane to Jordan, which will take four hours. After that, we’ll drive to the base in Palestine, which will take another four and a half hours. We should arrive on the 24th.”

There’s a bowl of spaghetti in front of Robert.

He’s not hungry. 

* * *

 

“You Nations aren’t allowed up in the master bedroom for the rest of the day.”

“But my uncle—”

“You’re not allowed.”

There are cracks in the wall. Robert stares and stares.

_“You’re so pathetic.”_

_I know._

_I’m so sorry._  

* * *

 

_February 12, 1951_

“Starting today, I’ll be your family,” Frank murmured.

Robert was filled with disgust. “I don’t want you as my family. You killed mine.”

“Which is why I’ll make it up to you,” Frank said quickly. There were bags under his eyes. “You—You can think of me as your older brother now.”

“You’re too old to be my brother.”

Frank gave a painful laugh. “You’re 15. I’m 28. There isn’t that much of an age difference.”

Robert stared at the man, hating him so much his chest hurt.

“I had a brother,” he spat.

“I know, but—”

“I HAD A FAMILY!”

Frank frowned, and Robert felt like a pathetic kid. He was shaking.

_Men don’t cry._

Frank pulled him into a hug. Robert’s breath hitched.

_Men don’t—_

An image of his parents, covered in blood, was suddenly all he could see. The broken car. His brother’s missing leg and dead sister.

“We can work together,” Frank breathed. “We can be partners for the rest of our lives.”

“I hate you,” Robert choked out.

“I know. But I promise I’ll never abandon you.”

He clutched his back and let out a sob.

…

The dream morphs.

It morphs, and Frank is getting into the car and _leaving._

_…_

_May 21, 2015_  

Robert jerks awake in a cold sweat.

He’s in one of the bedrooms, alone. The clock says it’s 2 AM and he knows they’re leaving in two hours.

He sits up and rubs his face; then thinks about Kazimir, only shoving those thoughts aside when they threaten to overwhelm him.

_Are Ilse and Halim okay upstairs?_

He abruptly stands, his joints protesting in the process; then blindly staggers over to his door and opens it.

Somehow he gets to the master bedroom, and once there, he hears crying. Ilse is. She chokes out something in Arabic, and Halim gently responds.

Robert finds himself walking downstairs, hoping desperately they put the knives back. He stops, though, when he sees Palestine and Israel in the living room.

Palestine is crying as Israel hugs her. She then pulls away and says something in Arabic. Her face is flushed as Israel forces out a smile and wipes her eyes. She responds in Hebrew.

Palestine leans in and kisses her on the cheek.

_“…with all my heart.”_

Robert backs up the stairs, powerwalks to his room, and shuts the door.

He stares at the ceiling until it’s 4 AM. 

* * *

 

“I’m keeping you two handcuffed,” Nina mutters. “If at any point I suspect you’re going to do something to sabotage us, I’ll kill you.”

Ilse and Halim stand there dully. They nod. Palestine is boring her eyes into Halim, but he doesn’t make eye contact.

“We have to get going,” David says, checking his watch. “Did you take care of the payment?”

Nina nods. “Yeah.”

“And Prussia’s body is in the trunk?”

“Yes,” Kazakhstan says quietly.

“Okay, then let’s go.” 

* * *

 

The car barely has any room.

Halim, Ilse, and Robert are in the first row while Palestine, Israel, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan are contorting themselves to fit in the back.

Robert feels claustrophobic. He can barely catch his breath. Halim’s leg is pressed up against his, despite the effort on both their parts to lean away as far as possible, and Nina and David are talking up front.

Robert leans his head against the window.  

* * *

 

The boat is a tiny fishing vessel.

They have to ride it for three days.

“Why are these two handcuffed?” their escort, Henry, questions when seeing Ilse and Halim.

“As a precaution,” Nina mutters.

David fidgets. “Where can we store the Nation’s body?”

“We can put it with the cargo. Here…”

Robert zones out, stepping onto the ship. He walks aimlessly until someone grabs his arm.

It’s Palestine.

“What?” Robert grumbles.

She drops her hand. “Can I—Am I allowed to talk to my un—Mr. Anwar?”

“I don’t know.”

“But aren’t you in charge?”

“I don’t know.”

Palestine stares at him as Israel runs over, asking her what sounds like a question.

“No one will be talking to Halim and Ilse,” Nina says from behind all three of them.

Palestine looks startled. “But—”

“They’ll be locked in one of the bedrooms and only let out for scheduled bathroom breaks. David or I will deliver food.”

“But—”

“That’s the final decision.”

“Juhaina,” Israel urges.

Palestine looks pissed.

Nina turns. “Robert, let me show you to your room.”

He follows her.

* * *

 

 _May 22, 2015_

He’s seasick. 

* * *

 

 _May 23, 2015_  

He wonders what’s going on in Switzerland right now.

He’s too afraid to check, though. 

* * *

 

 _December 20, 1965_  

Robert frowned. “Wait, you don’t celebrate Christmas?”

Kazimir glared at him. “Sometimes you are smart, and sometimes you know nothing.”

“Atheism is practiced there,” Frank said quickly before Robert could respond.

“Oh.”

He felt mildly embarrassed, but not enough to get worked up. The three of them were out to lunch at a Dutch café. There was a Nation UN meeting going on, but Kazimir didn’t feel inclined to be at the building, and since neither Robert nor Frank was the acting Nation Advisor, it didn’t matter where they were either.

Joseph was now in charge of America.

Robert hated Joseph.

“I didn’t go to college,” he muttered, knowing he probably shouldn’t have said that but still feeling insecure. “So my knowledge is…limited with some things.”

Frank patted his back. “It’s okay; I never finished either!”

“I did,” Kazimir said like that suddenly made him better.

Robert sneered. Frank dropped his hand. “Let’s not fight,” he said warily.

Neither of them responded.

Frank laughed. “You two get along when I’m not here. What gives?”

_Because when you’re gone, we’re not fighting for your attention._

The thought entered his mind abruptly. It made him feel uncomfortable.

It was silent except for the background noise of the café.

Kazimir then gave one of his shy ‘looks’ to Frank. Robert didn’t know how to describe them. Frank always seemed oblivious, but these—these looks were filled with such emotion.

…

_May 24, 2015_  

The boat rocks, and Robert is jostled awake.

He stares at the ceiling, dazed; then checks his watch. It’s noon. They should be arriving in Cagliari in an hour.

He rubs his face and rolls over. 

* * *

 

Standing on dry land is a relief.

They’re at a dock, soon to be driven to the airport where they’ll be thrown on a cargo plane.

He’s not looking forward to it.

Prussia’s body has been shoved into a crate, and thankfully the truck they’ll be taking to the airport is big enough to carry it.

Robert sighs, feeling anxious. Ilse and Halim are near him, still restrained. It’s the first time he’s seen them since boarding the boat.

_They’re still alive, though._

_Unlike—_

“Robert, we’re leaving,” Nina hisses.

He’s pulled forward. 

* * *

 

“Special Forces have descended on the UN building. The area is shut down. Media is being barred.”

Robert doesn’t want to listen to Henry rehash the news anymore.

He stares at the floor of the plane, anticipation swirling in his stomach. 

* * *

 

It’s 9 PM.

They’ll be arriving at the base in Palestine soon.

Nothing has gone wrong.

Everything is running smoothly.

Robert is terrified. 

* * *

 

They pull into a tunnel. 

* * *

 

Eventually, they end up in a garage.

They park. Some people greet them and explain that Kazimir and a few others are waiting for them upstairs in a meeting room.

Those who tell them this have guns. Robert is very aware of it. He’s nauseous.

He doesn’t know what happens to Prussia’s body. He doesn’t know what happens to Ilse and Halim.

Instead, he’s led away, upstairs, through twisting long hallways.

_“…with all my heart.”_

“ _This_ is Robert?” an older woman around his age sneers when they’re outside of the meeting room. Her voice is accented.

Robert swallows. He has no response.

“Yes,” Nina mumbles.

“ _He’s_ what Kazimir’s losing his goddamn mind over?”

David opens the door.

Everyone inside stops talking and stares, and then Robert sees him.

Kazimir.

They make eye contact.

_“…with all my heart.”_

Kazimir stands up and stumbles out of his wheelchair. Instantly, people are yelling. He trips—

Robert jerks forward and catches him, his brain short-circuiting. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Kazimir laughs, his breath warm against Robert’s neck. “It is so nice to hear your voice.”

He feels anxiety creep up his throat.

A woman walks over and says something in Russian. Kazimir turns his head, responding sharply.

When he looks at Robert again, his expression is soft. “She’s going to help me back into my wheelchair.”

“O-Okay.”

He backs away, and the woman props up Kazimir. It’s a process. Robert’s vision is blurring.

Kazimir is so old. Yet, when he looks at him, he can still see the Kazimir he first met, the arrogant, pompous man in his late twenties.

Robert feels like he’s about to pass out when Kazimir moves his chair closer to him. “We go back to my room.”

“But your—but your meeting.”

“Let us—let’s? Let’s go back to my room. Sorry, my English. I’m embarrassed.”

Everyone is staring at them, but Kazimir doesn’t seem to care.

He exits, and Robert blindly follows.

It’s silent except for the chair’s motorized sounds. They don’t pass anyone and enter the bedroom alone, together.

“Sit on the bed,” Kazimir mumbles after he closes the door.

Robert complies, not knowing what else to do.

Kazimir directs his chair to the opposite side Robert’s on, then maneuvers out of it and sits on the bed as well.

They’re just barely touching.

“Robert,” Kazimir murmurs.

He glances at him; then feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

Kazimir—he’s—he’s wearing the ‘look’ he used to give to Frank.

But it’s directed at him.

“Y-Yeah?” Robert whispers.

Kazimir places his hand on Robert’s, and his eyes snap downward immediately.

Both of them are wrinkled, old.

“I am so happy you are—you’re safe,” Kazimir breathes.

Robert’s eyes move to his face. It’s badly scarred.

His heart is beating erratically.

Kazimir’s hand moves up Robert’s arm; then rolls back his sleeve.

“You’ve been injuring yourself again,” he whispers, his fingers grazing over Robert’s cuts.

Robert nearly shivers and is immediately disgusted by his own reaction. “I—”

“You said you stopped.”

Robert doesn’t respond as Kazimir pulls down his sleeve. They make eye contact.

“You’ve aged well,” Kazimir mumbles.

Despite everything, Robert nearly laughs in his face. “Sure.”

“At least, you’ve aged better than me.”

“You’re not—”

“I know how disfigured I am.” Kazimir looks away. “Children would cry when they would—they’d see me.”

“For being 89, you don’t—”

“I am not 89.”

Robert frowns. His head is tight. He wants to find Kazimir unattractive but can’t. “What?”

Kazimir peers at him. “I am surprised you’ve remembered, though.”

Robert feels irrationally angry. “You’re ten years older than me. That’s what you said.”

“I lied. I am 87.”

“Why the fuck would you lie about a measly two years?”

“Because then you would know I became a Nation Advisor at 16.” Kazimir pauses. “Only Frank knew, but…”

Robert sucks in some air.

“Now you do too,” he breathes, placing his hand on Robert’s face.

They stare at each other for what feels like hours.

“I am happy you di—didn’t kill yourself,” Kazimir whispers, his hand moving downwards so that it’s resting on Robert’s shirtsleeve. “That one night; I am so happy.”

Robert squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t understand why.”

“You should. That is why you are here. I don’t want to lose you.”

Kazimir’s breath is on Robert’s face, and his eyes snap open.

He’s so close.

Kazimir stares at him as if waiting to see if he’ll move away. Robert feels paralyzed.

Kazimir leans in.

“I don’t want to ever lose you again. We already lost contact for a while,” he whispers. “That was enough.”

Robert can’t—he’s frozen.

“You mean a lot to me.”

Kazimir’s breath is on his lips.

Robert swallows, and then suddenly Kazimir is kissing him.

He grips his hand, and closes his eyes, and kisses him.

Anxiety consumes Robert, threatens to burst. He feels overwhelmed. He can’t handle this. He can’t. He—

_Why am I kissing back?_

His head is spinning. His heart is pounding, and he feels tingly. Kazimir’s eyebrows are pinched together. He’s clenching Robert’s hand—

There’s a knock on the door.

Both break apart abruptly. Robert is frozen. Kazimir is frazzled. He snaps something in Russian.

“Will Robert be spending the night with you?” a voice responds in English.

Robert feels like a tub of cold water has been dumped on him.

“Yes,” Kazimir gets out.

“Alright,” the voice mutters. They then walk away, their footsteps echoing.

“The bed should be big enough for the two of us,” Kazimir whispers.

Robert’s mouth is dry. “O-Okay.”

“Let me latch the door shut. I forgot to do that. There is a bathroom over there. You can prepare yourself for bed. I have clothes. I—I’ll find them as well.”

Robert nods, feeling dazed, and stands up as Kazimir maneuvers back into his wheelchair.

He enters the bathroom and shuts the door.

There’s a mirror, but his reflection seems foreign.

It’s not him.

That person can’t be him.

_What am I doing?_

The person blinks; looks broken.

_I kissed him._

_I killed all of those people to be with him._

_He looked at me the way he used to look at Frank._

_He’s in—_

_Am I—_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /


	27. A Shit Fest

_2015_ _年_ _5_ _月_ _20_ _日_  

Canada is pushed into him, and Hong Kong falls backward, taking South Korea with him.

Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. He twists his head. He sees Taiwan.

An explosion. 

* * *

 

Everything hurts.

Dazed, he realizes he’s on the ground; his face tender, his head pounding.

_Yong-Soo._

Hong Kong frantically opens his eyes and sits up. The motion causes his vision to swim.

People are around him. Some are hysterical.

All are covered in blood.

Hong Kong jerks his head and sees South Korea next to him. He’s alive, he has a faint presence, but he’s twitching and bleeding, and almost looks like he’s having a seizure.

“He has a poison bullet in his leg,” Canada says, his voice cracking.

Hong Kong can’t respond. He feels small, frozen.

_You’re in shock._

He stares at his hands. They’re shaking.

Canada stands up, his one arm still mangled. Some people watch his movements, scream things.

Hong Kong can’t breathe. South Korea is in pain, and he has to—

_Mei._

She was crushed in the explosion.

_No, no, no—_

“It’s going to be okay,” Canada attempts to soothe.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Hong Kong screeches, reverting to English.

“Kha Loung.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Canada tries to touch him, and Hong Kong is suddenly frightened beyond all belief. He grabs a gun.

“LEON, CALM DOWN!” Canada screams.

“SHUT UP!”

“YOU NEED—” Suddenly, his arm starts gushing blood.

Canada collapses. A woman screams. He’s bleeding out, and Hong Kong can’t do anything.

He drops the gun.

Canada’s now dead, and South Korea’s mouth is foaming, and he still can’t fucking do anything.

A woman puts her hand on his back.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says calmly. People are screaming and crying behind her. People are dying behind her.

Hong Kong starts to hyperventilate. He hasn’t—He hasn’t felt this way since he was in Japan.

_No, no, no._

The woman’s features morph. Her skin turns lighter from its dark hue; she ages.

Suddenly it’s Aida in front of him.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says.

Hong Kong backs up against the wall.

“Forget the Nation, Angela,” someone, a man—American, just like the woman—snaps. He has bags under his eyes. He’s shaking.

“There are medical supplies down the hall,” another voice, a woman with accented English, blurts out.

Cries, screams.

South Korea is still twitching.

Taiwan was crushed in the explosion.

Canada—

Hong Kong’s knees buckle. 

* * *

 

He’s almost having an out of body experience. He knows he’s crying, yet it seems hard to process that it’s actually him doing that.

Mostly everyone has left the area, disappearing down the hall. There’s a body near him, crushed by rubble from the explosion.

They’re dead.

Hong Kong sobs.

South Korea is dead too. Canada as well.

_Dead, dead, dead._

“There are medical supplies,” a voice whispers to him in English. “You should take advantage of them.”

Hong Kong jumps. South Korea’s Nation Advisor is staring at him.

_Yong-Soo’s dead, and you let him suffer, and Yao and Ivan and Mei have been killed, and Canada’s lying here broken—_

Hong Kong lets out another sob, unable to control himself.

The woman’s expression breaks. “W-Why don’t you go—we made an area for the wounded. You should take Canada and Mr. Im there.”

Hong Kong shakes. He can’t move. He can’t _breathe_.

“You saved us,” the woman whispers in Korean, her voice catching. “The least we can do is take care of you three.”

Hong Kong squeezes his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than for her to leave.

“You look like a teenager,” the woman chokes out.

Suddenly, she’s crying.

“Ms. Maeng,” another voice says.

“I’m sorry,” she stutters.

“The Nations will heal on their own.”

“But we shouldn’t leave them by the entrance! Not next to that—that body.”

There’s an arm on Hong Kong’s shoulder.

He opens his eyes, tears spilling out, only to see the American woman from before.

“Do you want to move?” she asks calmly.

_I don’t know._

“No one here is going to hurt you. We’re safe.”

_How are you sure?_

“What happened was out of our control. What happened is devastating, but we need to stay hopeful for the time being. Your friends will heal. Canada already looks better. South Korea was hit by a poison bullet, so it will take time, but those two _will_ heal.”

Hong Kong lets out a shaky breath.

“Stop comforting the Nation, Angela,” a man grumbles. He’s Chinese, limping.

“You and Joseph need to relax,” Angela replies, her voice smooth.

South Korea’s presence flairs up; then vanishes.

Hong Kong doesn’t know when he jerked forward, but suddenly he’s by South Korea’s side. Suddenly, the Chinese man is yelling, and Maeng is crying harder, and Angela looks surprised.

“He’s not going to hurt us,” she then forces out.

Hong Kong clenches onto South Korea’s arm.

“He and the others didn’t even do this.” 

* * *

 

He’s in the far room now.

It’s open and has basic survival amenities stacked on shelves—water, food, clothing. There’s also a compost toilet, first aid kits, and bedding.

Hong Kong doesn’t know how much time has passed, or when he actually moved.

Everything is blurry.

But when he did, those strong enough helped carry South Korea and Canada. Right now, the three of them are in the corner, out of sight from most. When they first got there, Hong Kong…had to clean their wounds.

And South Korea’s leg was becoming infected, so.

He chokes back a hiccup. There are still blood splatters around him no matter how much he tried to clean.

He had to chop off South Korea’s leg.

The ax he used has been grouped with the rest of the weapons here. Angela is guarding them. She’s somehow been put in charge.

Hong Kong is close to crying again. To counteract it, he checks South Korea’s leg. It’s still a stump.

Canada’s arm is healing, though.

A man starts coughing. He inhaled a lot of gas and threw up some blood earlier, so people are worried.

Hong Kong closes his eyes. 

* * *

 

They’ve been down here for four hours now.

“He’s no longer pathetically crying.”

“Joseph, he can hear you.”

Hong Kong looks up from the hangnail he was picking; then stares at the wall.

The man is right. All he’s been doing is examining that wall like it holds the secrets to the universe or compulsively checking South Korea’s leg.

It’s…better.

“Are we stuck down here?” a woman whispers.

“They’ll find us eventually.”

“Kha Loung?” Canada chokes out, his presence suddenly flaring up.

Hong Kong jerks and looks in his direction. Canada’s eyes are open, but he seems dazed.

“Where am I?” he asks.

“We’re—the far room,” Hong Kong manages to say.

People are staring at them.

Canada sits up, wincing a bit. He checks his arm and frowns.

“It’s better,” Hong Kong blurts out. He’s shaking again and feels pathetic.

Canada frowns. “How long have we been down here?”

“F-Four hours.”

Angela walks over. “We currently have enough supplies that we don’t need to worry about basic survival. And so far, we haven’t heard any more explosions.”

Canada nods again. Hong Kong finds himself fiddling with South Korea’s shirtsleeve and jerks his hand away.

“At the moment, all we can do is be patient,” Angela murmurs.

Canada sighs. “Is everyone down here free of injuries?”

She shakes her head, looking exhausted. “Some are reacting badly to the gas they inhaled, and others have gunshot wounds. We’re hoping we’ll be rescued soon so they can get medical care.”

She and Canada exchange a few more words, but Hong Kong’s ears start ringing too much for him to pay attention.

“Kha Loung,” Canada eventually whispers.

He blinks. Angela is gone now. “W-What?”

“We’ll get through this.”

He looks away, unable to miss how Canada struggles to catch his breath. 

* * *

 

An hour passes, and nothing happens.

South Korea’s leg grows. Hong Kong compulsively keeps checking.

It’s pretty much silent except for moans of pain every now and then. Canada is lost in thought, and Hong Kong doesn’t want to bother him, doesn’t want to talk, yet at the same—

Canada stands up.

Hong Kong feels startled. “Where are you going?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“His arm really is healed,” a woman whispers.

Some minutes pass before he returns, and they make eye contact as he sits down again.

“Do you want to discuss what happened?” Canada murmurs.

“No.”

He gives a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Me neither.” He leans his head back. “They’re going to be okay, though.”

Hong Kong chews his lip.

“We’ll get through this. We have to.”

There’s an unspoken: _we don’t have a choice._  

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _20_ _일_  

“We’ll get through this. We have to.”

South Korea’s eyes flutter open.

He’s immediately disoriented. The fluorescent lights above him are swirling around, and the people talking near him are causing his head to spin.

His vision focuses, and he realizes that Hong Kong’s gripping onto his shirtsleeve. South Korea blinks; then glances to the side and sees Canada. His shirt is splattered with dried blood.

_Blood…_

Hong Kong says something, but South Korea’s ears are ringing too much for him to process it.

He sits up, causing both Hong Kong and Canada to make a noise, and wildly looks around. There are people. Weapons. He shifts and is suddenly hit with a wave of pain coming from his leg.

It’s partially gone.

Hong Kong pulls him into a forceful embrace.

South Korea is shell-shocked. “Kha Loung.”

He shudders, burying his face into South Korea’s neck. Dazed, he returns the embrace, his hands resting on Hong Kong’s back.

“You got shot because of me,” he chokes, his voice mangled.

“No,” is the only word South Korea can force. A sharp pain runs up his growing leg. “No.”

Hong Kong lets out a sob, causing tears to form in the corner of South Korea’s eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Canada murmurs, and South Korea jerks his head to look at him. He gives a pathetic smile. “We’re safe here.”

Before South Korea can respond, Hong Kong leans too much into him, putting pressure on his leg.

He nearly screams.

Hong Kong jumps off, utterly frazzled. “I’m so sorry. Shit—”

South Korea squeezes his eyes shut. “No it’s—it’s not you. The pain is—it’s dying down.”

When he opens them, Hong Kong’s expression is broken.

He notices his Nation Advisor hovering in the background with America’s.

“Where are we?” South Korea blurts out.

“A bunker,” Canada calmly explains.

Hong Kong is hyperventilating, and South Korea can barely process what’s happening. “Kha Loung, come here.” His voice cracks.

Hong Kong shakes his head. “Your leg.”

“ _Please_.”

“Kha Loung,” Canada murmurs.

Hong Kong lets out a shaky breath and sits next to South Korea again. South Korea is trembling. Out of pain, shock, or sadness, he doesn’t know.

Canada lies down. “We’ll be rescued soon.” 

* * *

 

South Korea opens his eyes.

He didn’t even realize he fell asleep. He’s still leaning on Hong Kong, who’s awake. His expression is blank, and he’s staring at a wall, holding South Korea’s hand. Despite everything, something warm blossoms in his chest.

It’s immediately crushed by anxiety.

South Korea opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by a woman screaming as some man bleeds out.

The room is instantly chaotic. South Korea sits up straight, and Hong Kong’s head whirls around to look at him.

“Your leg has fully grown back,” Canada mumbles, obviously numb to the man dying a few meters away from them.

His eyes jerk down. It has, but muscle hasn’t fully reformed yet, so he can’t move it.

Hong Kong buries his face into South Korea’s neck.

Whoever the man was, dies. 

* * *

 

 _May 20, 2015_  

Canada wants to go home.

He’s in a random Swiss bunker, there are dead bodies, everyone is covered in dried blood, Hong Kong and South Korea are a mess.

He lets out a shaky breath and puts his head in between his legs.

_Francis and Arthur got separated from me. If I just stayed and helped—_

_But then what? I wouldn’t have made it to the bunker on time._

_I should have stayed, though, even if Arthur pushed me forward._

_What happened to Al? He and Kiku…shit._

_And Gilbert—_

_No. He’s fine._ _He’s covered in rubble, but he’ll be rescued and heal._

Canada senses a faint unrecognizable presence, but it fades.

He lifts up his head in confusion.

_It wasn’t from Leon or Yong-Soo. Who…?_

_It could have been Mei’s._

Canada clenches his jaw. He wishes he could have grabbed her when she pushed them.

There’s that presence again.

He glances at Hong Kong and South Korea to ask them about it; however, when he sees how absorbed they are in each other, he no longer feels too inclined.

He studies his arm. They’ve been down here for about six hours now, and it’s healed. There is some noticeable bruising, and it’s a little stiff, but other than that…

The strange presence locks in on him.

He flinches, struggling to recognize it, then abruptly realizes it’s Switzerland.

He projects his own presence back, causing Hong Kong and South Korea to lift their heads in confusion.

“What are you doing?” Hong Kong asks, his voice rough.

“It’s Basch,” Canada blurts out.

Before either of them can respond, he stands up, powerwalking to the area where the stairs are.

“Where are you going?” a voice asks him. He ignores them.

Switzerland’s presence is really strong now. Canada frantically projects his own, and Switzerland responds by poking him back.

“What are you doing?” the same voice asks him.

Canada turns around and recognizes one of his officials.

“There are people above us,” he says. He’s surprised at the excitement in his tone.

The man blinks. Canada notices the dried blood smeared on his pants. “How do you know?”

“Because I can sense the Swiss Nation Avatar.”

As if to further exemplify his point, there’s suddenly the sound of a jackhammer. 

* * *

 

Two hours have passed.

While there’s still noise coming from the entrance, no one has managed to clear away the rubble.

Canada and a handful of people are staying near it. Switzerland’s presence will fade at times but then come back.

It’s the only thing that’s keeping him sane. 

* * *

 

Around 6 PM, the sound of the jackhammer abruptly stops. Canada blearily looks at the pile of rubble, scanning it to see if there are any openings; then notices a sliver of light shining through.

“Hello?” Switzerland’s voice calls.

Canada loses all self-control. “WE’RE HERE!”

More noises. The rubble starts moving. A dead body is exposed.

Canada finally sees Switzerland’s face. 

* * *

 

Everything around them is destroyed.

Helicopters are circling the area. Swiss military is scattered everywhere. Cleanup crews. Ambulances.

“No one is going to kill you here,” Switzerland tells Canada like that’s supposed to comfort him.

He blinks, trying to cover up a shudder.

“Look,” Switzerland says after an uncomfortable pause. “Pain, it’s like a horse.”

Canada has no idea how to respond.

“You—You ignore it, and…”

“…”

“Oh, look, South Korea and Hong Kong are coming out now.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Canada asks. “The other Nations.”

“The Swiss Government has taken over a nearby hospital. They’re there.”

Hong Kong and South Korea stagger over. South Korea is leaning on Hong Kong for support, and in return, Hong Kong has a death grip on his arm.

“What’s going on?” South Korea chokes out.

Switzerland frowns. “After you’re all cleared out of the bunker, we’re going to the hospital where everyone else is being kept. I’ll accompany you, and once there I’ll give a better explanation. Here’s not a good place.”

Someone starts crying.

“And everyone is safe?” Hong Kong rushes. “They’ve all been rescued?”

Switzerland pauses for a split second. “Almost.”

“What does that—”

“We can’t find Prussia’s body.”

Silence. Switzerland avoids eye contact. “We’ve been looking for eight hours. We can’t find it. There are remains that we’ve yet to identify, but—”

A Swiss guard runs over and starts speaking in rapid French, but Canada’s mind numbs, and the words blur past him.

_Gilbert could be dead._

_Permanently._

Switzerland claps his hands. Canada, South Korea, and Hong Kong flinch, but he doesn’t seem to care. “There’s a helicopter waiting; let’s go.”

South Korea and Hong Kong give him a look; then hobble away.

Canada is frozen. “He can’t be dead.”

“Matthew.”

“Francis and Antonio will—”

Silence.

Canada shakes his head. “He can’t be dead.”

“We’re still looking. Nothing is finite yet.”

“…”

“Look, this feeling, it’s like a flower.”

Canada scrunches up his eyebrows.

Switzerland now seems embarrassed. He rubs the back of his neck. “Never mind. You’re shell-shocked. Come on, let’s go to the helicopter.”

Canada deflates and follows him, trying to ignore the cries of anguish echoing throughout the area. 

* * *

 

Once in the air, he has a clear view of the entire UN building.

It’s in ruins.

The only structure partially intact is the area surrounding the garage.

Canada lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. Next to him, Switzerland is reading a book, his expression completely blank, while South Korea and Hong Kong are spaced out.

There’s nothing but the noise of the helicopter until Hong Kong fidgets.

“Everyone is at this hospital we’re going to, right?” he blurts out. It’s the third time he’s asked this question.

Switzerland doesn’t look up. “Yes.”

“So Mei, Yao, and Ivan—”

“Yes. They’re under Swiss watch.”

South Korea’s eyes focus. “Wait, what about our governments?”

“You’re all under Swiss control for the time being. Your governments have agreed that this is the safest option.”

“What does that even mean?”

Switzerland’s expression hasn’t changed at all, and Canada is envious. He’s simply fighting to keep his cool.

“It means that there were less Swiss security breaches than any others.”

No one knows how to respond.

Switzerland flips a page in his book. “Once security issues are resolved, you’ll be put back in your home countries’ hands.” 

* * *

 

They land on the roof of the hospital.

Canada nearly stumbles when exiting the helicopter, and Switzerland awkwardly steadies him; then takes out a thing of sanitizer from his pocket and dumps it on his hands.

He’s too lightheaded to be offended.

“Follow me,” Switzerland shouts over the noise after shoving the hand sanitizer back into his pocket. He starts walking at a brisk pace.

Canada struggles to keep up.

There are military officials scattered everywhere, doctors running around. Frantic. Yelling.

“The Nations have one floor to themselves,” Switzerland explains when they’re inside. Trailing them are two soldiers with visible guns.

They arrive at the elevators.

“There are some empty rooms prepared for you. If you want a medical evaluation, that can also be arranged.”

The elevator arrives, and they step in, the soldiers following.

“Are we allowed to see everyone else?” South Korea mumbles. He and Hong Kong are still holding each other’s arms.

Switzerland nods. “Yeah.”

The elevator opens.

“The third floor is yours,” he then continues. “For security reasons, don’t leave it, but you can go anywhere.”

The elevator closes, the soldiers remaining inside.

Switzerland rubs his face after they stand there for a bit. “Let me show you where the rooms are. There’s also a lounge.”

They start walking again, and Canada takes in everything, trying not to get anxious.

“This is where the rooms are.” Switzerland gestures when they reach them. “300 to 307 are the ones occupied while the rest are free.”

South Korea looks down the hallway. “Who’s in what?”

“I don’t know,” Switzerland mutters, suddenly seeming exhausted.

Hong Kong jerks forward, and South Korea scrambles after him.

Canada doesn’t feel inclined to move.

Switzerland side-eyes him. “Are you, um, alright?”

“No.”

“Yeah. That was a stupid question.”

He starts walking away, and Canada follows pathetically. If Switzerland minds, though, he doesn’t say anything.

They end up in the lounge.

Switzerland opens a window; then takes out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. After pausing for a moment, he holds them up as if offering one to Canada. Canada’s fingers twitch in response. He hasn’t been a regular smoker of them in a while, but.

He takes one. Switzerland lights it, then his own.

“Are we even allowed to smoke in a hospital?” Canada mutters.

Switzerland shrugs. “Probably not.”

He sighs, leaning against the wall, only noticing some dried blood on his sleeve when he lifts his arm to take another drag.

He suddenly feels nauseous.

Switzerland is studying him. “No one’s mentioned anything to me about clothing, but I’ll ask and see if I can get you a spare change.”

“…”

“You probably don’t want to wear a hospital gown either.”

Canada blows out some smoke. “Not particularly.”

There are voices outside.

“You really can’t find Gilbert?” he mumbles after a few moments.

Switzerland frowns. “I stayed out there for eight hours.”

“…”

“And now I have to call Roderich, and I have no idea how he’ll react, let alone Elizabeta.” Switzerland leans his head back. “This is a shit fest.”

“Yeah,” Canada pathetically manages to say.

“It’s all because of your… _plan_.”

He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Enlighten me. _Why?_ Why did you guys do it?”

_Why?_

Canada stares at the wall. “You were barely involved in the war.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You didn’t _see_ what Francis—fuck.” Canada crushes his cigarette. He makes eye contact. “I was willing to do anything if that meant Francis would feel better.”

Switzerland blinks.

“He wasn’t even a person. He—He was hollow. He was so hollow, and I didn’t wish the same thing upon Gilbert or any of the other Nations who were taken to Siberia.” Canada looks away. “So I decided to help.”

_And steal all that money, scope out properties, make return plans, hack up Frank Radzinski’s body and burn it into ashes._

“You’re pale,” Switzerland awkwardly says. “Are you okay?”

Canada nods.

_Gilbert is probably dead. Forever. Like all those people at the UN building._

He lets out a shaky breath just as something rings.

Canada nearly jumps while Switzerland fishes a flip phone out of his pants pocket, grumbling. He then frowns and walks out of the room.

Canada examines the crushed cigarette in his hand until he feels embarrassingly close to tears. He’s about to leave the room but stops at the doorway when he hears Switzerland.

“I’m sorry, Roderich.”

Austria’s voice is audible because he’s shouting. “KEEP LOOKING! HE HAS TO BE—YOU HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING! YOU HAVE TO BE THERE TO SENSE HIS PRESENCE.”

“We’ll give you an update once we fully examine the remains.”

“YOU HAVE TO KEEP—”

“Roderich.”

“H-He can’t be dead. He can’t—not after everything. He can’t—”

“It would have happened soon anyway.”

The other line is silent. Canada nearly forgets to breathe.

“But what if it was Erika?!” Austria sputters. “You would keep looking if it was her!”

“Liechtenstein doesn’t have cancer and would heal at a rate where I would sense her presence within eight hours just like everyone else!” Switzerland closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Roderich. I’m really sorry.”

Austria breaks down.

Canada mutely stands there at the doorway, invisible.

It’s nothing new. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _20_ _일_  

Hong Kong bolts forward, and South Korea stumbles after him. A sharp pain shoots up his leg, but he ignores it as Hong Kong tears open the first door.

He then freezes.

South Korea stops next to him, about to ask what’s wrong until he sees Japan.

His body is mangled. IV’s are jammed into his arm, his skin is raw in some places, bones look deformed.

Hong Kong shuts the door.

South Korea turns his head, expecting to see Canada or Switzerland waiting there, but they’re both gone.

He’s then startled when Hong Kong grabs his arm again. The fact that they’ve been initiating this much physical contact is foreign and weird, but…

So is this situation.

Hong Kong drops his hand. “I don’t—I don’t think I want to see the others yet.”

“Then we can wait until they’re better healed,” South Korea whispers.

Hong Kong walks forward and leans his head against South Korea’s chest. His heart, already beating rapidly because of anxiety, speeds up as he puts his arms around Hong Kong’s back. He wants to start crying, wants to break down.

But for the sake of Hong Kong, Kha Loung, he remains calm.

“Let’s go to one of the spare rooms,” South Korea murmurs.

Hong Kong nods, sniffing. He slowly pulls away.

The room they enter is just like one from any other standard hospital. There are two beds, a counter with medical supplies, and a TV with no remote in sight.

They sit on the same bed, and South Korea leans his head on Hong Kong’s shoulder.

“Your leg,” Hong Kong mumbles after a bit. “How is it?”

“Fine for now,” South Korea responds. “You made the right call; cutting it off.”

Hong Kong lets out a shaky breath and grabs South Korea’s hand.

“I keep getting afraid that you’ll—you’ll disappear or something,” he breathes when South Korea stares in confusion. “Like, I’ll let you go for a second, and then…” He laughs. “I can’t get a grip.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” South Korea whispers, his heart beating fast again.

Hong Kong squeezes his eyes shut.

They sit there for a couple of minutes until someone knocks on the door. Normally, South Korea would move away, but he couldn’t care less right now.

“Come in,” they both mumble in English.

A woman enters, carrying a bag. Accompanying her are two soldiers.

“Hi,” she rushes in German, not even looking at them. “I’m Switzerland’s Nation Advisor. I’ll be watching over you two and Canada in the upcoming days. You’ll be provided a meal and a spare change of clothing shortly.”

Before South Korea or Hong Kong can muster a response, she places the bag on the nearby counter; then swiftly walks out, the soldiers following.

“Where did Canada go?” South Korea mumbles.

Hong Kong shifts. “Matt just disappears sometimes.”

Neither has the energy to look for him. 

* * *

 

Switzerland’s Nation Advisor pops in and out over the next half hour, leaving snacks, a change of clothes, and some basic bathing amenities.

As soon as they get those supplies, they immediately make use of the public shower on the floor.

“Where have you been?” Hong Kong mumbles to Canada when they pass him on the way back.

“The lounge,” he mutters, not even bothering to stop.

South Korea frowns, but he and Hong Kong continue to their room, only pausing when they see some random tech guy fiddling with their TV.

Switzerland’s Nation Advisor is in the corner. “It should work now,” she says as a greeting. “It has basic cable. Also, some sandwiches are in a bag over there on the counter. I’ll be taking leave soon with Mr. Zwingli, and we’ll be back early tomorrow morning.”

They nod.

“Should you have any questions, you can call me directly. My number is on the counter along with a temporary cell phone for you guys to use.”

The tech guy finishes after a few minutes, and he and Switzerland’s Nation Advisor leave together.

The TV is playing a weather station.

South Korea dully checks the clock as he and Hong Kong sit on the bed. It’s around 7 PM.

“Should we turn on the news?” Hong Kong asks, nearly whispering.

South Korea feels a wave of anxiety wash over him. “No.”

Hong Kong frowns.

He fidgets. “Not yet at least. Let’s eat first.”

They grab the sandwiches and stare at the weather channel. By the time they’re finished, Canada enters, hair wet and in a new set of clothes.

“Did you visit anyone?” Hong Kong asks, his voice small.

Canada doesn’t make eye contact. “Briefly. Hopefully, they’ll look better tomorrow.”

The atmosphere is crushing now.

Canada grabs the remote. “Have either of you flipped to another channel yet?”

The two shake their heads as Canada starts skipping around. He then pauses and laughs in what seems to be sheer disbelief.

Against all odds, a station is playing that stupid polar bear documentary. 

* * *

 

_2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _21_ _일_

South Korea wakes up at 6 AM with a numb leg, a twisted arm, and his face pressed into Hong Kong’s chest.

He’s disoriented. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

He, Hong Kong, and Canada are all on the same bed, bodies twisted around each other. They must have fallen asleep around the 5th documentary the channel played.

South Korea can feel Hong Kong’s heartbeat; can hear it. Shit, they’re so close to each other.

He suddenly feels cagey.

After carefully untangling himself and sitting up, he wanders into the hallway, desperately trying to work up the resolve to see the other Nations. He ends up in front of Japan’s door again, but chickens out and heads into the room next to it.

America is there, and he actually doesn’t look too bad. He has a breathing mask on, IV’s are sticking out of his arm, and he’s covered in bruises and some faint cuts, but that’s it.

He’s also alive, his presence and the heart monitor he’s hooked up to both indicators of such.

South Korea shuffles closer. The lighting is dim, so he can only make out America’s face when he’s next to him.

His hair is matted with debris and blood, and South Korea can’t help but try to brush some of it—

America’s eyes snap open as soon as he touches his hair.

South Korea freezes, having no idea how to react. He’s not even sure if America’s cognizant.

His heart rate speeds up after they make eye contact. “Alfred.”

America’s eyes turn bright red.

“Alfred, calm down,” South Korea blurts out, cursing himself for waking him up. “You’re safe.”

America abruptly sits up, and one of the IV’s gets yanked out. He removes his breathing mask and chucks it to the side. “Where’s Kiku?”

“The room next to you. You’re in a hospital.”

“Where’s Kiku?”

“He’s—”

America tries to stand up, but he trips, and the IV pole crashes to the ground. South Korea panics and stoops down next to him. America’s skin is pale, and his forehead’s slick with sweat.

He’s having a panic attack.

“Alfred,” South Korea says more desperately.

He tries to stand again, basically shoving South Korea to the side. “I need Kiku. I—where is he? He blocked a suicide bomber from me. Where—”

South Korea feels pathetic. “A-Alfred, you—he’s in the room next to you.”

The door slams open, and America nearly screams. Looking at them are some nurses and soldiers.

South Korea runs over and grabs America’s arm, who’s now hyperventilating.

“Don’t hurt him,” he blurts out in German.

The nurses look frightened. “He needs to be put under control.”

“I need Kiku; I need him—”

South Korea rapidly shakes his head. “Let me take him to see Ki—Japan in the other room first. He’ll cooperate more if—”

“For health concerns and security reasons, he should remain in here.”

“I need Kiku, I ne—”

“Please,” South Korea nearly begs.

“Let them go,” a soldier mutters.

The nurses seem reluctant, but they step to the side as South Korea leads America into the hallway, America stumbling the entire time. It’s almost like he’s drunk; he can’t keep his balance, and his speech is all jumbled.

Gritting his teeth, South Korea opens Japan’s room, the humans hovering behind them, praying that he’s healed.

He doesn’t look any better.

America becomes completely still. “He looks like how he did after the atomic bombs.”

South Korea reaches for him, but his hand hits air as America stumbles away, sobbing, clutching Japan’s lifeless body, caressing his face.

South Korea’s head is tight as the people in the hallway talk.

“Mr. South Korea,” a male voice says behind him while America repeats a slew of apologies in the background. “We have to examine Mr. America, so could you please reason with him?”

“He’s not in the state to be reasoned with,” South Korea chokes out.

“Then for everyone’s safety, we’ll have to sedate him.”

“ _No_.”

The doctor purses his lips.

“I’ll stay here and watch over him,” South Korea nearly begs. “Please.”

“Fine. But we’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

South Korea crouches on the floor and tries not to cry after they leave. 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later, America is wearing a dead expression.

He’s on the floor next to Japan, holding his arm while South Korea is crouched near the door. A couple of minutes ago, people were arguing about something in the hallway, but South Korea didn’t catch what.

“I never wanted to see him like this again,” America suddenly whispers.

South Korea lifts his head.

“I never…” His voice cuts off. “All those people died.”

South Korea fidgets. “Some lived.”

America doesn’t respond.

“I take it your head is better?” South Korea asks, knowing he probably still had brain injuries when he first woke up.

America squirms. “Yeah…you’re, though…you’re unharmed.”

“Me, Kha Loung, and Matt made it to a bunker,” South Korea mumbles.

“Everyone else—”

“They’re here.” _Minus Prussia._

America looks away and starts shaking. “I caused this.”

“Alfred, that’s bullshit.”

“Because Ivan and I gave those nukes, and—”

“Stop.”

America flinches, and tears prick the corner of South Korea’s eyes. He’s not sure if they’re out of frustration or exhaustion.

“They want to do a medical evaluation on you,” South Korea mumbles after a bit.

America’s presence expands.

“Not that kind of evaluation,” he says quickly. “They just want to check your injuries.”

“I’m fine.”

“They’re being lenient here; it’s okay.” They make eye contact again. “I promise.”

America squirms, South Korea stands up and walks over. “I’ll stay in here while they check your injuries. Don’t worry.”

America’s voice is small. “Okay.”

A few moments pass.

“Thank you, Yong-Soo.”  

* * *

 

The examination is minimal. Afterward, the nurses leave America a change of clothes so he can get out of the medical gown he’s wearing, as well as some snacks, water—the same shit South Korea was given.

America ignores everything, though, and opts for staring at Japan.

South Korea frowns, checking the clock. It’s about 6:50 AM now.

“I’m going to leave for a bit,” he murmurs.

America jerks his head. “O-Oh. Okay. Yeah. Kha Loung and Matt are awake. Go see them.”

South Korea stands up. He and America make eye contact, but America quickly looks away.

“Thank you,” America mumbles.

South Korea frowns. “You already—”

“You didn’t have to deal with me, yet you—thank you. I’m sorry I’m mentally all over the place right now.”

“Don’t berate yourself.”

America stands up and pulls South Korea into a hug.

He starts crying.

America freaks out and jerks back. “Shit, what’s—”

“No, I’m—” South Korea frantically wipes his eyes. He then forces out a smile and echoes Canada’s words. “We’ll get through this.”

America nods, warily returning the gesture.

South Korea leaves the room, only to be greeted by the nurses hovering outside.

“Has anyone else woken up yet?” he mumbles.

“No. And for security reasons, we ask that you return to your own room immediately.”

“But Switzerland said we could—”

“Please follow our orders now.”

South Korea sighs.

It’s not a far walk. He feels dazed, though, and his eyes are swollen from crying.

When he opens the door, it’s just Hong Kong.

South Korea walks inside. “Kha Loung, where’s M—”

He runs over and embraces him.

Startled, South Korea hugs back. The door closes behind them.

Hong Kong is shaking. “You weren’t there when I woke up, and I don’t know I panicked, and then Matt left to see where you were, and he hasn’t returned, and I—” His voice breaks.

“I’m here now. Sorry, since Alfred woke up they’re being weird about security here.”

Hong Kong doesn’t respond.

South Korea pulls away so they’re face to face.

Hong Kong averts eye contact. “Did you see Mei?”

“No, just Alfred.”

“…”

Impulsively, South Korea reaches out and cups his face. Hong Kong’s eyes immediately snap upward.

“I’m such a fucking wreck right now,” he breathes.

“Me too,” South Korea murmurs.

Hong Kong starts shaking. “I want to kiss you.”

South Korea has no idea how to react.

“I shouldn’t be thinking about this,” he chokes out, continuing. “Shit, I shouldn’t be thinking about _feelings_ either when everyone—when Prussia—”

“Kha Loung.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

South Korea freezes as Hong Kong laughs out of disbelief. “I don’t want to regret not telling you, but shit, what the fuck. _What the fuck_!?”

“I love you too.” The words leave South Korea’s mouth before he can think about them.

Hong Kong freezes. They stare at each other.

South Korea then starts crying for what feels like the umpteenth time this morning. 

* * *

 

 _May 21, 2015_  

Canada numbly stands there.

All he wanted to do was find South Korea so that Hong Kong would stop having a mini panic attack, but somehow he’s now in Taiwan’s room.

He was herded in there after America’s presence flared up, and when he tried questioning the nurses about it, they just told him to cooperate and wait.

So.

He examines Taiwan from afar. She’s covered in bruises and cuts, plus her one arm is particularly mangled, but she’s nowhere near as bad as some of the other Nations.

Canada sighs, dragging a chair tucked in the corner next to her bed.

He then sits on it and stares at the wall.  

* * *

 

 

For the next thirty minutes, he hears a lot of activity out in the hallway.

At one point he thinks someone says that they’re grouping Nations together to prevent another ‘freak out incident.’

He really hopes America didn’t do anything.

Canada chews his lip and absentmindedly picks at a hangnail.

 _God, this is literally the last thing Alfred needed on his mental plate especially with how injured Kiku is,_ _and_ _Francis and Antonio are going to be a mess when they find out about Gilbert._

He sighs.

“M-Matt?”

Canada jerks his head, startled.

Taiwan blinks. She seems out of it.

“You’re at a hospital, so don’t freak out,” Canada attempts to say soothingly. “We’ve been rescued.”

“Are Kha Loung and Yong-Soo—”

“They’re okay. You saved them. They’re in another room at the moment.”

Taiwan relaxes a bit. “Good…”

“We’re under Swiss control right now while our governments regroup.”

“Because there were so many security breaches, right?”

Canada deflates. “Yeah.”

Taiwan frowns. There’s a breathing tube in her nose and a heart monitor on her chest that’s making an annoying beeping sound.

“This is the first time I’ve ever died,” she mutters after a few moments pass.

Canada blinks.

“It sucks.”

“You’ve really never…?”

She forces out a smile. “I’ve lived a sheltered lifestyle, I guess.”

Canada doesn’t know how to respond.

“I felt so useless when everything was happening. God, it’s hard to process that it even _did_ just happen. Like, I feel like I should be panicking right now, or crying, or—something! But I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel real.”

“You don’t have to process it right now,” Canada murmurs. “It’s okay.”

Taiwan shifts; then winces. “Shit, everything hurts.”

“That suicide bomber you protected us from caused some damage.”

Taiwan frowns. “Kha Loung and Yong-Soo; they’re really okay?”

“Physically, yes.”

She closes her eyes. “What about everyone else?”

“Kiku is…the worst. I think Alfred just woke up and is causing a security problem. Ivan was healing pretty well when I saw him, same with Yao. And I would say that Arthur, Francis, and Antonio are just as hurt as you.”

Taiwan opens her eyes. “Do we know what happened?”

Canada shakes his head. “No one’s really explained anything yet. But Basch was—”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“What about Gilbert?”

“…”

“Matt, what about Gilbert?”

Canada avoids eye contact. “Basch can’t find him. No one can.”

“What?”

Canada doesn’t know what else to say. “Basch can’t find him.”

“Is he…?”

“I don’t know. They found some remains. They’re going to identify them to see if any are Gilbert’s.”

Taiwan frowns. “But he’s still a Nation. He should heal.”

“But his shoulder and thumb didn’t.”

Taiwan’s expression falls. Canada feels anxious all of the sudden.

“Why did you push me into the bunker?” he asks. “You should have taken care of yourself.”

Taiwan squirms. “You shot that guy with the gun. So I don’t know, I also felt like I had to do something.” Canada opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “It seemed better to keep you alive anyway. You’re more…if I lived, then it would just be another person to babysit.”

“Mei, that’s not true.”

“But it is! I can’t shoot a gun! I’ve never seen combat! I’m a woman—”

“You’re so lucky you’ve never been in a war; don’t be ashamed of that,” Canada interrupts.

She’s close to crying. “You don’t know what it’s like to feel this utterly pathetic, though.”

“I do.”

Taiwan sniffs, and Canada reaches out his hand and gently takes hers. She grabs it and closes her eyes, tears silently rolling down her cheeks.  

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, a few nurses come in to check on her.

Some soldiers also inform Canada that he’s free to roam. America is now safely tucked away with Japan, Russia and China are grouped together, and Spain, France, and England are also in the same room.

Canada leaves Taiwan, promising to fetch Hong Kong and South Korea in return. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _年_ _5_ _月_ _21_ _日_  

Hong Kong’s lungs burn as he sprints to where Taiwan is. He and South Korea scrambled out of the room as soon as Canada came back, all three of them ignoring the intimate position Canada walked in on.

Two doctors turn around and look at them as soon as they both thrust open her door.

Hong Kong is suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, only deflating when South Korea puts his hand on his shoulder.

“We’re finished, don’t worry,” one of the doctors grumble. When they step to the side, Hong Kong sees her.

She’s injured, but nothing like Japan, and relief flows through him like a drug as he stumbles closer.

Taiwan forces out a smile. “Hey.”

Hong Kong’s eyes flicker to her left arm, which looks dislocated; then back to her face.

“How are you feeling?” South Korea asks from behind him.

Taiwan frowns. “Dying sucks.”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I’m glad that you two are safe, though. I feel useful.”

Hong Kong scrunches up his eyebrows. “What the fuck, _useful_?”

Taiwan looks away. “Kha Loung, you already know how I feel. That much was clear at the Swiss shooting range.”

Hong Kong stoops down and grabs her good hand. “Stop berating yourself.”

There’s a long pause.

“Dying really puts things into perspective too,” Taiwan mumbles after a bit. “Like, what if I remained dead? What if I never…”

“Mei.”

“I love you, Kha Loung. You know that, right? Maybe not romantic love, but I still love you.”

Hong Kong feels his chest clench, his lingering feelings for her swirling around and causing his head to feel tight.

Taiwan looks over his shoulder. “I love you too, Yong-Soo.”

South Korea fidgets, moving closer to them. “You don’t have to awkwardly include me.”

“But it’s _true_. I love both of you!” Her voice cracks. “You two need to realize that people care for you. Everyone doesn’t hate you either, and I just—shit, sorry. They gave me pain drugs, so my head is all foggy now.”

Hong Kong squeezes her hand tighter after South Korea leans into his side. “Don’t apologize.”

Taiwan sniffs, taking her hand away to wipe her eyes. “Have either of you visited the others yet?”

South Korea frowns. “No.”

“Matt said that Kiku looks the worst.”

Hong Kong squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah.”

They stay silent for a bit until South Korea moves away. “Are you hungry, Mei? I’m going to grab some food.”

She shakes her head.

Hong Kong watches him leave, feeling light-headed.

“You two are initiating more physical contact.”

Hong Kong feels his face heat up. When he looks at Taiwan again, she’s nearly smirking.

She then gives a genuine smile. “You don’t know how happy I am that you’ve found someone who can reciprocate your feelings, especially after all of this.”

Hong Kong is frazzled. “He—”

“Oh Kha Loung, he’s clearly in love with you.”

Hong Kong can’t make eye contact. “I—I know. He told me.”

“What?”

“He—”

Taiwan waves her good arm and nearly smacks him in the face. “Holy shit!? _Holy shit!?_ ”

“Mei.”

She’s still waving her hand. “That’s—wow, that’s so great!”

“You shouldn’t be moving around this much.”

“Don’t change the subject. And I’m on pain meds, so it doesn’t matter. I’m just so happy for you two!”

Suddenly, Canada’s words about how they will get through this mess seem true.

Prussia’s whereabouts float into his mind.

 _Maybe._  

* * *

 

 _May 21, 2015_  

“Do you think his scar will still be there?” America whispers.

Canada frowns. He’s been watching America stare motionless at Japan for what feels like hours. “What?”

“When he heals; will that disgusting scar come back?”

Canada doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. America shudders.

“I’m going to check on Arthur, Francis, and Antonio,” Canada murmurs after a few moments, knowing his presence isn’t making America feel any better. “He’s healing, Al. He’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” America mumbles in response.

Canada walks out of the room.

He pauses when he’s outside of Russia and China’s door though, realizing he should probably tell them what’s going on too.

He knocks; then cracks open the door, “Are you two awake?”

“Yeah,” he hears China’s voice mutter. “We just had a medical examination.”

Canada steps into the room and closes the door behind him.

“What about the others?” Russia asks. “Have they woken up?”

“They’re all healing, but only half of you are awake. Leon, Yong-Soo, and I were able to escape death, though, by going into a bunker.”

“Kha Loung,” China mumbles. “Not Leon.”

Canada blinks. “Shit, yeah. Sorry.”

They get silent.

He realizes he has no idea what else to say, nor how to approach the dreaded topic of Prussia.

Russia makes it easy. “Did they find Prussia?”

 _Shit_.

Canada frowns. “They’re working on it.”

“Working on it?”

“They—Basch is looking.”

“But shouldn’t they have found him by now?”

Canada avoids eye contact, and that seems to be enough of an answer for Russia because he rubs his face and sighs.

“He was in a duel state,” China murmurs. “You heal faster then, so maybe…”

“They’re looking for him,” Canada pathetically says again.

“Do we know what happened?”

He shakes his head. “They’re still questioning people and trying to piece together a story. So I assume the Swiss will tell us once they have a clearer idea.”

“What are you going to tell Spain and France?” Russia mutters.

Canada releases a shaky breath. “I—I don’t know.”

There are voices in the hallway.

Russia leans his head back, chuckling wearily. “I should have killed him,” he says after a few moments.

Canada is confused. China frowns. “Ivan.”

“If I just shot him in the fucking head—God, he was supposed to die! The explosion was supposed to kill him!” He smiles miserably. “This is all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” China snaps. “We don’t even know if Kazimir orchestrated this.”

“Of course he did!”

Canada awkwardly stands there.

“It’s no one’s fault,” China mumbles. “But if you want to blame someone, blame me since I told you not to shoot him anymore.”

There are tears in the corner of Russia’s eyes.

China sees them and stands up. He nearly collapses at first but then steadies himself on the bed’s railing. Russia issues a slew of protests, his voice choked, but China ignores him, taking out his breathing tubes and undoing the fluid connected to his IVs. He then hobbles over to Russia’s bed and hugs his neck.

Russia starts crying.

China lightly kisses his eyelids and caresses his face, causing Russia to pull him into an embrace and  _sob_.

Canada mutely leaves and stands in the hallway, feeling lightheaded.

“Hey,” someone then says, causing him to jump.

It’s Switzerland.

“Hi,” Canada mumbles.

“I heard Spain, France, and England were awake, so I was going to talk to them. Have you done so yet?”

“No, I was just about to.”

“Ah. We can go together then.” He starts to move.

“Wait,” Canada blurts out.

“Yes?”

“Did you—Any good news?”

Switzerland frowns. “We still can’t find him. I went back to the UN building too and searched.”

“…”

“I’m going to tell them.” Switzerland walks to their room and opens the door.

Canada hastily follows.

All three look startled. No one’s crying, which is good, but Canada knows that won’t last long.

“Basch,” France blurts out.

Switzerland’s face is emotionless. “Yes.”

“Matthew,” England says, noticing him.

Canada pathetically waves.

“You’re not in—”

“I want to cut to the chase,” Switzerland interrupts.

Silence.

“We can’t find Prussia.”

“Excuse me?” Spain gets out first.

“We have reason to believe that Prussia is dead. We’re currently examining the remains of—”

Spain’s heart monitor spikes. “ _Excuse me?!_ ”

France seems shell-shocked. England makes eye contact with Canada.

“I’m sorry,” Switzerland mumbles. “We searched. We really did.”

“No,” is all France can force out. “We never—We never made up. The last conversation we had was an _argument!_ ”

He and Spain break down at the same time. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _21_ _일_  

Japan actually wakes up in the evening.

Everyone knows because America’s presence expands throughout the entire building.

South Korea leaves the two alone and opts for spending the day in Taiwan’s room. She sleeps through the most of it, but it’s comforting just to be with her.

It’s at 9 PM when some Swiss soldier comes in and tells them they have to go to a meeting in the lounge. 

* * *

 

“Hello,” a woman greets in German when they all make it there. Japan is on a gurney, everyone else who died except America is in wheelchairs, and it’s clear no one wants to listen to her.

“My name is Kathrin Michlig. I’m the head director of the Swiss Nation Advising Team.” She points. “Hannah Pulfer here is Switzerland’s Nation Advisor.

“On the theme of Nation Advisors, most of yours are dead, traitors, or both. This amount of security breaches is unheard of.”

No one knows if they should respond. South Korea and Hong Kong are standing next to each other, each behind Taiwan’s wheelchair.

“What’s ridiculous,” Kathrin continues, “is that this situation could have easily been prevented. According to the surviving Nation Advisors and other officials we’ve questioned, they knew some sort of ‘mutiny’ was in the making since day one.”

South Korea makes eye contact with China. They both look away.

“But no one did anything. Perhaps this can be explained by a number of factors. I mean, first of all, most Nation Advisors were bitter about being stationed in Switzerland. The hotel your countries were forcing them to live in for the past month does not have ideal conditions. Or, maybe they were afraid to speak up. But maybe, I don’t think they wanted to. I think most supported Kazimir Gorelov, who had spies festering among your ranks since day one.”

South Korea can almost feel Russia clench up.

“Not to say that there weren’t any Swiss traitors. But to compare numbers, they were by far the least.

“I’ll cut to the chase; we think this terrorist attack was organized by Kazimir Gorelov. We don’t know exactly what he wanted to accomplish, but he killed a lot of people.”

Kathrin pauses and purses her lips. “That’s a lie. We basically know what he wanted to accomplish. Thanks to information survivors have given us, we believe this was all an elaborate plan so Robert Donati could escape with Kazimir Gorelov’s ‘revolutionary’ group.”

America’s presence expands. Japan feebly grabs his hand.

“Of course, this is all speculation,” Kathrin continues. “But there is supporting evidence for this theory. First of all, Robert Donati’s missing. Security feeds have been tampered with and damaged, but he was last seen near the northern end of the building.

“And the northern end of the building, near the garage, is where there was the least collateral damage. We believe that they used the secret tunnels located there for security to escape.

“Another telling piece of information is that he got along with Halim Anwar and Ilse Richter.”

_What do those two have to do with anything?_

“Ilse Richter and Halim Anwar left the meeting with Prussia, a known ‘rule breaker’ to go to a nurse’s office located on the north side of the building, past the garage, right before the attack.”

“Where the fuck are you going with this?” Spain sneers in German. Both he and France look like absolute garbage, somehow even worse than Japan.

A soldier takes out a plastic bag. In it is a passport.

“In this passport is a picture of a girl,” Kathrin says. “A little girl, ten at the time it was taken. Her name is Juhaina Metwaly.”

The name Juhaina sounds familiar, but South Korea can’t place his finger on it.

“We investigated who this could be. After all, we found the passport on the north end of the building in an area that seemed untouched except for blood marks on the floor. She seemed suspicious, this little girl, like she could unlock some secrets. As it turns out, she’s from Palestine.”

South Korea’s blood runs cold.

“Or _was_ from Palestine. See, she’s a Nation now, a Nation the United States had under control until Kazimir Gorelov stole her. Currently, he’s using her at his disposal.”

Everything seems to be in slow motion.

“We looked into Halim Anwar’s past and discovered that he texted Prussia once about his niece, his niece who is from Palestine, who he believes is a Nation.”

It’s dead silent as they all realize Halim wasn’t lying.

“He obviously felt it was safe to send these messages since we found out that Ilse Richter never checks Prussia’s text history, nor submits those reports to the German government. Oh, and we’ve been told these two have been in a romantic relationship with one another for the past couple of weeks, so of course Ilse wouldn’t submit a report.

“We believe Halim Anwar, Ilse Richter, and Robert Donati worked together to orchestrate this attack, taking Prussia with them, since he’s been known to rebel in the past. Afterall, Ilse Richter has been trying to contact members of the resistance group Prussia worked with. Perhaps he did die in an explosion, but with absolutely no traces of him, we’re inclined to believe this.”

“No,” France forces out.

Kathrin’s expression is blank. “Then I implore you to give me a better explanation.”

No one responds.

“Switzerland no longer wants any part in suffering from the collateral damage your countries have caused,” she continues. “In two days, you’ll be escorted from this hospital and back into the hands of your own countries. What happens next does not concern us.”

With that, she and her entourage leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> commission from ghoststrikes.tumblr.com
> 
> I blame this delay on a 11 page paper about China's democracy, writer's block, and a horse show
> 
> I'm dreading the election tomorrow. I wanted to post this beforehand.
> 
> Pray Trump dies tonight or something
> 
> [edit] there is is folks Trump won and i want to die :) . spoiler. im killing him next chapter.
> 
> [edit #2] the more im finding out about how the SK president is literally being controlled by a cult, the more guilt im feeling about portraying her as a functioning human being. when i finish this fic and do edits, im going to correct that and make her more insane [edit from the future: and that has been done now. glad she got fucking sent to jail lmao]


	28. What’s next?

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۲۵)

 _25 May 2015_  

“Why aren’t they letting me see my uncle?!”

Dalia looks broken. “Juhaina—”

“We followed orders! I just _don’t get it_!”

“Then go talk to him,” Mongolia mutters, staring at the floor. Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan are standing next to her. “Kazimir. His schedule is posted; he’s alone in his office right now.”

“With Robert,” Kazakhstan whispers. “Though I thought he had meetings.”

Mongolia looks up. “He did, but he canceled everything. I know because Kyrgyzstan and I were supposed to see him, but now that’s…”

“I can come with you,” Dalia blurts out before Juhaina can even say anything.

She blinks.

“Come on, let’s do this.” Dalia smiles. “Let’s find a way to see him.”

Juhaina nods just as Kyrgyzstan mutters something. She and Mongolia then start arguing as they walk away.

“The two of them have been fighting a lot recently,” Dalia whispers when they’re out of earshot.

Juhaina knows, and she hopes it doesn’t have to do with their kiss.

She tries not to think about it, though. “What should we even say to Kazimir?” she mumbles.

Dalia frowns. “Well…if he’s as logical as the other three claim—”

“I thought you said he was too.”

“Yeah, that was before he sent you to Geneva. Anyway, he should listen to reason. Your actual living uncle is here! God, letting us see him wouldn’t threaten security. I don’t understand what the issue is.”

Juhaina starts chewing her lip.

“We’re gonna do this,” Dalia whispers, touching her arm.

Juhaina feels herself blush as her eyes drop to Dalia’s locket. She still doesn’t know what courage she worked up to kiss her cheek, but ever since then, Dalia has been initiating more physical contact.

It’s nice.

They keep walking and pass Nation Advisors and other officials along the way, none of which look particularly thrilled. No one gives them any second glances either.

Until they run into one of Kazimir’s close officiates.

Ema Kovač. She’s fairly old and is from Croatia. Juhaina doesn’t know much about her other than that she helped build this ‘revolutionary group’ from the ground up.

She looks pissed.

They try to skirt by her, but she stops them.

“Where are you two going?”

They both freeze.

“We—We wanted to request an audience with Kazimir,” Juhaina is able to get out, feeling her confidence drain.

Ema frowns. “He isn’t accepting any today.”

“I know, but we—I was hoping he’d make an exception. You must be aware that my uncle—”

“Everyone’s aware,” Ema mutters, cutting her off.

They all awkwardly stand there.

“You really want to interrupt Kazimir?” Ema eventually asks.

“…Yes?” Dalia says slowly. “But if he’s busy—”

“Oh, no no. He isn’t.” She’s not even looking at them now. “Actually, this will be good. He needs a healthy dose of reality.”

Ema spins around, and Juhaina and Dalia blindly follow her.

She knocks once they get to his door. “Kazimir.”

“What?” a voice snaps back in Russian.

“It’s me, Ema. I’d like to come in.”

Juhaina expects Kazimir to protest, but he doesn’t.

“Fine. The door’s unlocked.”

Juhaina fights the urge to hide behind Ema once she opens it.

The first thing she sees his Kazimir at his desk, his wheelchair pushed close to it. Next to him on a chair, looking utterly dazed, is Robert.

Kazimir narrows his eyes. There’s a laptop open in front of him, and some books lying face down on the table.

“Why are there Nations here?” Robert hisses in English.

Kazimir looks at him with a soft expression before scowling at Ema. “I told you I’m not meeting with anyone today. What do you want?”

“What are you saying?” Robert demands.

“I am saying that they will—they’ll be leaving, do not worry.”

“No,” Ema hisses in English. “You’ve been side-lining many issues for the past few days and this is one of them.”

Kazimir frowns.

“Why can’t this Nation girl see her uncle?”

“Because I do not trust either this Halim or other woman, so I do not want the Nation to see them.” Ema opens her mouth. Kazimir cuts her off. “Robert has told me things—I do not trust them. I think it is best to kill them.” He switches back to Russian. “Why the hell are you coming to me now about this?”

“Wait, you—you can’t!” Juhaina screams in English before she can stop herself.

Kazimir whips out a gun from his desk drawer and points it at her head.

Juhaina’s heart is in her throat. She realizes her eyes are red. “Please, I can convince them to cooperate! They know stuff too, right? I can—I can make them give up information!” Her voice breaks. “He’s my family. Please.”

Robert’s eyes follow Kazimir’s hand as he lowers the gun.

“I am—I’m not sure I like the idea of this,” Kazimir eventually says in English.

Ema frowns. “Why? A short, monitored conversation wouldn’t hurt anyone. And if she can get them to cooperate, that can be great for our future next step.”

Both Kazimir and Robert avoid eye contact.

She clenches her fists. “Because there will be a next step. Right, Kazimir?”

He shoves more of the books aside. “Of course. We will continue to dismantle Nation system to cause that chaos. To get revenge for all of you.”

Juhaina fidgets, feeling her red eyes fade back to normal as Dalia speaks.

“So…” she tries.

All of their heads jerk towards them.

“I can go with them and monitor the conversation,” Robert blurts out. Kazimir frowns. “I know you don’t have security cameras here, so—And you can come too.”

“I do not want to come, and I do not want you talking to Ilse or Halim.”

“The hell? Don’t try to police me.”

Kazimir bristles. “Do not give me this bullshit. Those two—they were not good for your mental health!”

Robert’s eyes darken. “We want to get their help to proceed with the next steps of whatever this fucking thing is, right? Well, these two know me. Let me and the Nation talk to them. If they don’t cooperate after that, then fine. Kill them.”

Dalia rubs Juhaina’s back after she clenches her fists.

Kazimir fiddles with his gun. Ema is staring at him. “Fine.”

Robert blinks.

“They wouldn’t talk with me there anyway, so even if I wanted to come, I cannot.” He looks away. “I want the entire conversation documented by you. I want you to go, and then tell me everything afterward.”

“We could record it,” Ema mutters.

“You know how I feel about video cameras,” Kazimir snaps in Russian.

“That’s such _bullshit_ ,” Ema spits in the same language. “You’ve lost your touch with technology, Kazimir.”

“We’ve been fine so far,” he growls. “And I trust Robert.”

“Robert _this_ ; Robert _that_. Fuck!” Ema throws up her hands. “Stop acting like such a lovesick fool!”

Kazimir freezes.

“What did she say?” Robert demands.

“I’m not acting like one,” Kazimir hisses, still in Russian.

“It’s written all over your face,” Ema sneers. “Everyone knows. Don’t try to deny it.”

A vein is forming on Robert’s forehead. “What are you saying?”

Kazimir shoves more of those books away. “It’s not written…”

“You got up out of your wheelchair to run into his arms like a school girl.”

Robert is agitated. “ _What_ —”

“Go with Palestine and Israel,” Kazimir mumbles in English. Robert opens his mouth again, but Kazimir cuts him off by touching his arm.

He freezes.

“You have a gun,” Kazimir murmurs. “Use it if you feel threatened.”

Robert swallows and nods, then stands up and almost loses his balance. Ema watches with narrowed eyes.

“I want to talk later, Kazimir,” she spits out in Russian. “This is a mess.”

He glares at her. “Fine.”

Juhaina feels lightheaded. She makes eye contact with Dalia, who nods determinedly in response.

“I’ll escort you three to where they’re being held,” Ema grumbles in English.

Juhaina can feel Kazimir’s piercing gaze as the door shuts behind them.

“Are we recording this meeting or not?” Robert mutters as they start walking.

Ema doesn’t look at him. “Oh. Right, you missed that conversation. We’re not.”

“But Kazimir was concerned about—”

“Kazimir trusts you, darling, to relay the information to him. He has a weird phobia of video cameras, wiretaps…you should really talk to him about that.”

Robert frowns.

“He _really_ likes you, you know.”

“Stop.”

Ema turns her head and glares. “I’ve given my life to Kazimir.”

“…”

“So you better not fuck him up. He’s in lo—”

“SHUT UP!”

Juhaina moves closer to Dalia while Ema gives him a dull look.

“Just take us to where Ilse and Halim are,” Robert spits out.

She glances away. “Fine.”

The two are being kept in a storage room on the bottom-most level, so it takes a couple of minutes to get to the hallway they’re in. Croatia and Jordan are on guard. Jordan is aimlessly pacing while Croatia’s expression is blank and stony as usual.

They become startled, though, when they see the four of them approaching.

Ema speaks first. “We have permission from Kazimir to visit.”

Croatia blinks. “Alright. Do you require the key?”

“Yes.”

“What about the Prussian Nation Avatar, are you visiting him as well?” Jordan asks as Croatia hands it over.

“He’s still dead,” Ema mutters. “So there’s no use in doing so.”

“U-Understood.”

Ema starts walking again, and Juhaina hurries after her. It doesn’t take them long to stop in front of a door, which Ema painstakingly takes forever to unlock.

The room is barren except for two flimsy bedspreads and a compost toilet shoved in the corner. Her uncle and the other woman aren’t restrained, but the two are crouched against the far wall, dressed in ratty clothing, and appear utterly miserable.

Her uncle looks at Ema and glares. “What do you want?”

Ema steps aside. “I brought your niece.”

Her uncle’s mouth snaps shut. For a second, it almost looks like he’s about to smile, but then Robert comes into view.

He and the woman now seem livid. “Why are you here?” she hisses.

Ema has a bored expression on her face. “If he leaves, then the niece goes too. Kazimir’s orders.”

The woman practically snarls. Halim frowns. “Fine.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause.

Ema turns towards the door. “I’ll leave all of you in here for ten minutes max. The room isn’t being monitored, so have fun.”

This is the first time Juhaina has been given the opportunity to study her uncle while awake. She frowns once Ema leaves.

He looks so old.

“You’ve barely aged,” her uncle gets out.

“Speak in English,” Robert hisses.

Her uncle glares as Juhaina fidgets. “I’m sorry,” she blurts out in the language Robert wants. She can feel Dalia give her a confused glance.

Her uncle scrunches up his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

She starts shaking. “I—I should have died on my 12th birthday.”

“Juhaina.”

“But I had to pee, so I made dad stop the car, and mom and I got out.” She clenches her fists. “I should have died on the beach with them.”

“No,” her uncle breathes.

Juhaina’s voice breaks. “If we all died together, then mom wouldn’t have gone to Israel.”

“You are not responsible for Kulthum’s actions.”

“But—”

“ _I_ should have stopped her!” Her uncle rubs his face. “And it’s me who shouldn’t have left you and your friend alone in that hospital room.”

“…”

“When I went into the hallway, there were men outside speaking English. But I was dazed and in shock, so I didn’t think anything of it. I wanted to—I wanted to collect my thoughts and formulate a plan. But when I came back, you two were gone. No, you weren’t just gone; it was like you were never there.”

“Halim,” the woman murmurs, placing her hand on his thigh.

He shudders. “I spent twenty-five years looking for you, and I would’ve never found you if it wasn’t—God, if it wasn’t for this fucking terrorist group.”

“I’m sorry,” Juhaina chokes out.

“ _You’re_ sorry? Juhaina, Sweetie, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

She’s suddenly on the brink of tears. “But I ruined your life.”

Her uncle stands up and hugs her.

“You didn’t ruin my life,” he murmurs after Dalia and the woman smile.

Juhaina makes a choking noise. Robert is staring at the ground.

“I’m just upset that after all this time, this is how we’re reunited.”

“That’s why you have to cooperate,” Juhaina gets out. “Both you and—her. You both need to, otherwise, they’ll kill you.”

The woman looks like she’s swallowed bile. “Cooperate with what? _Murdering people_?”

Robert finally mumbles something. “It’s to break down the Nation System so future advisors won’t be treated like shit.”

That sets the woman off. “You and I both know this isn’t the fucking way to accomplish that!”

He flinches.

“What the fuck do you want Halim and I to do—hand over classified information so you can stage another terrorist attack!? You’d think I’d do that after you _murdered_ Gilbert?”

“Ilse,” her uncle whispers.

“I didn’t—I didn’t have a choice,” Robert gets out.

Juhaina backs away into Dalia. “ _Please._ They’ll kill you if you don’t give them what they want.”

Ilse’s deranged expression fades to sadness when they make eye contact “I’m sorry.”

“Ilse,” her uncle tries again.

“But I’d rather be dead than help this group.”

The door opens just as Robert starts to say something.

Ema seems unamused. “I think it’s time to leave.”

Juhaina feels panicky. She looks at her uncle. “Wait—”

Dalia grabs her shoulder and guides her out while she twists her head to make eye contact with him. He smiles.

Ema shuts the door.

“I think you can find your own way back,” she mutters, staring at Robert’s rigid figure.

He briskly walks away.

Ema rubs her temples. “Kazimir will kill them if they don’t cooperate. You’ll probably only get a few more chances to talk to them if they keep this up.”

Juhaina swallows.

“I hope you realize that what this group is doing is good. It’s the reason you guys are no longer being experimented on.”

“It’s also the reason everyone in that UN building died,” Dalia mutters after she walks away.

Juhaina is dazed. “You really hate it here now.”

“I’m not the only one,” Dalia mutters. “People are losing faith in Kazimir.”

Before she can respond, someone says something from behind them.

“H-Hey.”

Juhaina and Dalia jump.

Jordan is nervously fidgeting. She darts her eyes around, then runs over.

“What’s wrong?” Dalia asks.

Jordan shoves her key at them.

“You can’t give this to us—”

“I’ll tell the Nations on guard duty to let you back here. And the security team kind of sucks, so they won’t notice one key missing.”

Juhaina stares at her in pure bafflement, realizing she really hasn’t gotten to know anyone else here.

“Thank you…”

* * *

 

(27 май 2015 года)

 _27 May 2015_  

They’re looking at him like he has three heads.

Kazimir desperately tries to regain control of the meeting.

“As stated, I’ve done what I’ve wanted to accomplish, and I believe it’s best to find a new leader. Time is also against me, and this will be a way of planning for the future.”

“How is this planning for the future?” Ema sneers, one of the few brave enough to speak out. “You’re—You’re copping out.”

Kazimir clenches his jaw. “I’m proposing a ground plan that will get us through the next month. How the hell is that copping out?”

“What about the information leaks?” another one of his close officiates asks. “And we still have the documents about the Nation Programs. Are we going to release them?”

“We don’t want to do anything unnecessary that will put us in danger until we see the full extent of the repercussions from this latest attack.”

Ema is in a sour mood. “But isn’t that—God, then what’s even the point?”

Kazimir doesn’t want to respond to that question. Instead, he glances at the clock. He’s been in meetings for the past three hours, so Robert—

“What, miss him?” Ema sneers.

Everyone is staring. “Ema, stop.”

“Aw, feeling shy about it now that we’re in a room full of people?”

Anxiety climbs Kazimir’s throat.

_No, Robert kissed me back._

_He—the past three days we’ve slept in the same bed. He’s wearing my clothes…_

“Let’s take a break,” Kazimir gets out.

Ema narrows her eyes. “For how long?”

“An hour.”

They all begrudgingly file out of his office, leaving him alone.

Kazimir lets out a breath.

He’s been having fantasies ever since Robert arrived, ever since that first night, and it’s been messing with him.

He’s been imagining, God, what if they could live a quiet life from now on away from everyone? Alone. Together. Not in Palestine, they could go somewhere else. Kazakhstan. They could survive there.

Lately, Robert has been fixated on how old they are, so they can just live out the rest of their days in solitude. They have enough money.

Kazimir’s chest clenches. Fuck, he wants that life so badly it hurts.

It’s pathetic.

He honestly finds himself pathetic.

Kazimir wheels himself out of the room, his eyes glazed over as he passes some people. He knows they’re staring at him, but he pays them no mind.

He doesn’t care anymore.

He opens his bedroom door, startling Robert, who’s on the bed with a laptop in front of him. His expression is quickly masked with annoyance, though, as it usually is. “I thought you were at a meeting.”

Kazimir tries to construct an English sentence that doesn’t sound like shit. “We’re…having a break now.”

“Oh.”

Kazimir wheels the chair so that it’s next to the bed. “What are you doing?”

Robert fidgets. “Nothing. Just watching a movie.”

“What film?” Kazimir asks after glancing at the screen and not recognizing it.

“The Godfather.”

“Oh. That movie glorified the mob, no?”

Robert swallows. “It did, but it’s still good.”

“You can keep watching,” Kazimir murmurs as he goes to minimize the screen. “I will watch with you.”

Robert side-eyes him, frowning. He’s always frowning, always seems pensive and unsure, and even uncomfortable, but—

_He kissed me back._

Kazimir suddenly can’t help himself. He reaches out and cups Robert’s face just as he scoots closer.

Robert gets very still. “What are—What are you doing?”

_I want to run away with you._

_This is worse than I felt with Frank._

_Maybe it’s because I always knew deep down that it would never work out with him. But with you…_

_God…with you._

“You are not uncomfortable here, right?” Kazimir murmurs.

Robert regains part of his composure. “What kind of question is that?”

Kazimir can’t figure out how to phrase what he wants to say in English.

He drops his hand.

Robert scrunches up his eyebrows, his pupils following it.

“If you ever want me to leave you alone, just say so,” Kazimir forces out. He moves the wheelchair away. “There are spare bedrooms, you know.”

Robert’s expression twists. “I—I do.”

“…”

“The sleeping arrangement—” Robert actually looks nauseous. He’s fiddling with his shirtsleeve, causing it to ride up so Kazimir can see his scars. “It’s fine,” he chokes. “Everything, it’s fine. I’m fine with it.”

Kazimir feels his stomach churn as they make eye contact.

“Wait, are you leaving?” Robert forces out. “You just said you wanted to watch the movie.”

“…I will stay a bit if you are okay with that.”

“Y-Yeah.”

* * *

_May 27, 2015_  

_He was going to kiss me._

_And I—_

_“There are spare bedrooms, you know.”_

_Fuck, it’s been plaguing me ever since I got here. Of course I do._

_I was going to let him kiss me._

_I was going to let him kiss me_ again _, but then he pulled away._

_Why was I upset for a second? Who the hell am I turning into?_

Kazimir shifts. He’s been staring at the laptop screen intensely like he’s trying to memorize the movie.

Robert, meanwhile, is lost. About forty-five minutes have passed, and he hasn’t been paying attention at all.

Someone gets shot.

“This may not be the best film to watch,” Kazimir mumbles, his eyes flickering over to him when he nearly jumps.

_Stop being overly concerned about my mental health. Stop caring. It’s screwing me up. Please._

_I used to be able to function without you._

Anxiety coats Robert’s stomach. He forces himself to keep a neutral expression.

“It’s fine,” he ends up muttering.

Kazimir mumbles something in Russian, and Robert fidgets. He loses track of time as they sit there for a while, unable to concentrate, fighting against the sudden ache to touch the man next to him.

Kazimir eventually checks the clock, and his eyes widen after he does. “Shit, I have to get back to my meeting. I did not realize—I will be busy until 6 PM.”

Robert feels his heart sink and is pissed off by it. “Okay.”

“We can eat dinner together. Meet here.” He pauses. “Please.”

“Okay.”

Kazimir touches his hand, and suddenly it’s like something possesses Robert to make his breath hitch.

Kazimir leans in.

He screams at himself to move, to resist, _something_.

Yet, shit.

_Please._

“Take care of yourself,” Kazimir murmurs. He then pulls away and wheels out of the room.

Robert sits on the bed in muted shock.

Everything suddenly becomes overwhelming.

_I need a release I need a release I need_

He stands up in a jerky motion.

_I’m just desperate for intimacy. That’s it. I’ve never had a meaningful relationship before. That’s why I’m reacting like this. I just need to get a grip. I just need—_

He ends up in the attached bathroom, and tears open the cabinet. His eyes immediately lock on a razor.

_Kazimir will be angry._

_No, fuck him. Fuck him!_

Robert starts crying.

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۲۹)

 _29 May 2015_  

“This is gross.”

“I didn’t prepare the meal,” Kyrgyzstan mutters. “I just picked it up.”

Juhaina stares at it. “I can’t give this to my uncle.”

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you.”

They’re standing in the hallway where her uncle and Ilse are being kept. Kyrgyzstan is on guard duty.

The food is on a tray. It consists of freeze-dried ‘meat,’ mash potatoes, and what Juhaina thinks is vegetables.

She frowns. She’s waiting for Dalia, who’s currently fetching Mongolia since she’s also supposed to be on guard duty.

Both her and Kyrgyzstan are still bickering.

Kyrgyzstan shifts. “I thought you said Dalia would be back in a minute.”

Juhaina shrugs.

She’s been sneaking over to visit her uncle and Ilse for the past two days. The fact that all of the Nations are bending the rules to help her do this is overwhelming. She never expected such generosity.

Kyrgyzstan groans and leans against the wall. “Why do I have to be on guard duty? This is boring.”

Juhaina rolls her eyes. “It’s only for two hours.”

“‘Only.’”

“And Mongolia will be here soon to keep you company.”

Kyrgyzstan frowns, causing Juhaina to take a deep breath. She braces herself. “Are you two fighting?”

“No,” Kyrgyzstan says quickly.

Juhaina stares.

“Really.

“Alright…”

“What about you and Israel?” Kyrgyzstan blurts out.

“We’re…not fighting?”

“No, uh, you like her.”

“Yes. We care for each other.”

Kyrgyzstan is getting angry. “No, you _like_ her.”

“I do. Where are you going with this?”

“NO! You’re in—”

“Sorry,” Dalia blurts out, dragging Mongolia with her. “Someone stopped us.”

Juhaina looks at Kyrgyzstan, who now seems extremely interested in the floor tiles, then back at Dalia. “No problem. You ready?”

Dalia nods. “Yeah. Is that their meals?”

“Unfortunately.”

Juhaina stoops down and picks up the tray. With one last glance at Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan, she and Dalia head to her uncle’s room.

“You have the key, right?” Dalia murmurs.

Juhaina nods, handing her the trays of food.

There’s a bang on the door across from them.

“…Could something have fallen in there?” Dalia asks slowly.

Juhaina’s mouth feels dry. “Maybe?”

_That’s the room Prussia’s in._

They wait for something else to happen, but it’s quiet.

Juhaina frowns, moving to get the key out of her pocket.

_BANG!_

She whips her head around. Dalia nearly drops the trays of food.

“Why is there so much noise?” Mongolia asks, approaching them. She seems bored. Kyrgyzstan is following, looking mildly anxious.

“He’s awake,” Juhaina responds frantically.

“Excuse me?”

_BANG!_

Now Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan appear startled.

“You two aren’t supposed to be here,” Mongolia gets out first. “Go away. Kyrgyzstan or I will alert someone.”

_BANG!_

Juhaina bites her lip as she and Dalia scramble away.

* * *

 

_May 29, 2015_

“We should just shoot him. He makes me nervous.”

“Don’t,” Robert blurts out.

Kazimir nearly glares. “It is one thing to have control over Nations I rescued, but _him_.” He cuts off in a groan.

Robert feels like he’s about to vomit. He can’t stomach the thought of having Prussia die again.

“Maybe he’ll cooperate if we put him with the other two,” he says pathetically.

Kazimir frowns. “No, he will not.”

They stare at each other.

“I dealt with him for nearly thirty years,” Kazimir spits out. “I know he will not.”

They’re alone in the bedroom, and Robert is feeling cagey. This is the first fight they’ve had since he’s arrived.

“Maybe he won’t cooperate, but if Ilse knows that he’s alive; then she and Halim will do anything,” Robert tries again.

“Prussia is just going to be a nuisance. I do—don’t understand why you are so insistent on keeping him alive.”

The words leave Robert’s mouth before he can stop them. “Because I already killed him once.”

Kazimir blinks. Robert can’t make eye contact.

“It was not your fault for shooting him,” Kazimir murmurs, his voice suddenly soft.

Robert feels bile rising in the back of his throat.

_Don’t be nice to me. Don’t care for me. Don’t—_

“I wasn’t in the right place at the right time,” he sneers. “It _is_ my fault.”

Kazimir places his hand on his shoulder.

He hates how nice it feels.

“I’m wary about this,” Kazimir mumbles. “I do not want to compromise security.”

“They can’t escape,” Robert whispers. “Prussia isn’t strong enough to do anything.”

Kazimir starts massaging his shoulder. He has to do everything in his power not to shudder. “You are right…” Kazimir sighs. “Though I do not think the other group members would be happy. Mostly, people want me to kill the three. They do not see them as asset. I…do not quite either.”

Robert swallows.

“But…” Kazimir removes his hand and rubs his face. “Maybe we will not have to deal with that, so in the end, it does not matter.”

“What?”

Kazimir ignores him. “I will place them in the same room. Then two of us can try and talk to them. If they do not want to cooperate after that, then I am sorry.”

“O-Okay. That sounds good.”

He smiles. “I will let everyone know. To move him. We can visit by ourselves. Though maybe they should be restrained…”

Kazimir moves his chair away. Robert almost finds himself reaching for him and resists the action by biting his tongue. He tastes blood.

“I will get everything situated,” Kazimir murmurs. “But I will have to go to some meetings first.”

Robert looks away. “Fine.”

“I am sorry. I’d rather stay with you.”

Robert’s chest clenches. “Just go.”

Neither of them moves.

“Meet here?” Kazimir whispers. “In about two hours?”

“Yeah,” Robert mumbles.

He sees Kazimir smile out of the corner of his eye just before he leaves.

Robert stumbles to the bathroom and leans over the toilet. He expects himself to vomit, but nothing ever comes out.

He feels like he’s wasting away. Being with Kazimir is like a drug, something he’s addicted to now and can’t live without.

_What’s the point of keeping Ilse and Halim and Prussia alive?_

_All three of them hate you._

_All you have is Kazimir._

Robert is suddenly terrified.

* * *

 

 _29. Mai 2015_  

He woke up in a cold sweat in an unfamiliar room.

When he panicked, he rammed against the door, and people came in and started speaking a bunch of different languages. He couldn’t understand them, though, and then they restrained him, and he was in pain and screamed as they threw him into—

…

“Gilbert?”

Prussia releases a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

Ilse frowns. “Well, you don’t look it.”

Halim says something.

“I still can’t understand you,” Prussia mutters.

“This has happened before, though,” Ilse says, clearly trying to stay optimistic.

Prussia stares at his hands.

He’s been with her and Halim for around two hours now. They’ve—well Ilse’s—explained everything to him, but he’s still having trouble processing that this is real.

He’s somewhere in fucking Palestine.

He shifts and is surprised when he isn’t in a tremendous amount of pain. His shoulder and thumb have also healed, but…

He can’t understand any languages besides German.

Apparently, there are also other Nations milling around somewhere in this building too, yet he can’t sense any of their presences.

Not even Palestine’s.

* * *

 

Prussia is dozing off when someone unlocks the door.

He rapidly sits up, but Ilse soothes him.

“It’s most likely Juhaina.”

She told him about how that girl and her friend, Israel, have been visiting both her and Halim. It’s the only thing giving Prussia hope they may be able to escape from here.

It isn’t Juhaina on the other side of the door, though.

Kazimir aims a gun at his head and says something. Prussia doesn’t need to understand Russian to know that it’s a threat.

He dully stares at him while Robert nearly cowers behind. Both Halim and Ilse have looks of disgust on their faces.

Ilse snaps something in English, and whatever she says pisses Kazimir off. Robert has to grab the back of his wheelchair to make him relax.

Prussia really wishes he could speak other languages. “Hey, why the _fuck_ are they here?”

Kazimir snaps something at him. Ilse says something back.

“I don’t know,” she then hisses in German. “And I just told them you can’t understand.”

Halim mutters something and scoots closer to Ilse. Robert is still staring at the ground.

Kazimir rubs his face; then starts to rant. Prussia stares, feeling himself getting angrier and angrier. The last time they saw each other was in ’71. And now—fuck, now all of this is _his_ fault. That asshole prick’s. The one who constantly berated both him and Russia. Prussia doesn’t care if he helped with the letter exchange. Russia was just paying him. He—

“—hesitate to dispose of you. You are lucky Robert has let you two live. We are showing generosity. Either you cooperate with group to help end the corrupt Nation system, or you die. Your niece knows that and she is loyal to me since I am her savior. Robert and I are the only reason you are alive. The rest would rather have you shot, especially the Nation—”

“I can understand English now,” Prussia interrupts, having no idea why.

That shuts Kazimir up. Both he and Robert get tense while Ilse and Halim smile.

“Hey, Robert,” Prussia says dully. “Thanks for shooting me in the head.”

He looks like he’s about to throw up.

Kazimir grabs his arm. “You were sabotaging—

“Your English accent is terrible,” Prussia says in Russian.

Kazimir instantly switches languages. “Fuck you.”

“Glad the feeling is still mutual half a decade later. What did you and that American guy speak though, Polish? They interrogated me all about that.”

Everyone is staring at them since they can’t understand. Kazimir looks like he’s about to jump out of his chair and strangle him.

Prussia switches to Polish. “If you’re here to ask me or the three of us to help you, fuck off.”

“I could kill you right now,” Kazimir spits, also in Polish.

“What are you saying?” Robert hisses.

Prussia switches to English. “You think I don’t know how shitty the Nation system is and what it does to people? That’s why I started this entire _mess_ when I went against Hitler. The solution is not to cause ‘chaos’—or whatever the fuck—and murder a bunch of innocent people, though.

“What is this—the entire organization? Revenge for what happened at the compound? Of course Ivan shot you; especially after how you treated him. He and Yao said you were threatening them.”

Kazimir has a look of disgust. “ _Those two_ were the ones who murdered all innocent people there.”

“How innocent were they, considering they kept us captive for years and performed experiments and put us in a fucking Nation Army?”

“Gilbert,” Ilse hisses. “Enough.”

He looks away.

Halim tries to do damage control. “Don’t misunderstand, we don’t want to die. We cannot accept what this group has been doing, though. No one has told us anything about what the ‘next steps’ might be. Once we know, then we can determine how much we’ll help.”

Kazimir gives him a dirty look while Ilse glares at Robert. “Robert, you know how fucked up this is.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m the one trying to keep you three alive.”

Kazimir grabs his arm. “It is time to le—”

Prussia’s ears pop again.

He stares at the ceiling after the two leave, trying to wrack together a way to escape as Ilse and Halim talk to each other.

He’s gotten through worse. He knows he can endure this. He knows he can get away somehow. The others must be looking for him too.

But shit, he’s so fucking tired.

Giving in would be easy. Simple. Painless, just like Bavaria said.

His thumb twitches.

* * *

 

 _May 29, 2015_  

Robert is numb.

He desperately needs a release, but Kazimir is in the bedroom, angrily talking to Ema in Russian after she fucking caught them leaving the cell, and all he just wants is for Prussia to disappear and Ilse and Halim to cooperate because he can’t be responsible for wrecking their lives—

“You do not look okay,” Kazimir murmurs, coming over and moving onto the bed where he is.

His eyes snap up. Ema is leaving the room, seeming disgusted.

Robert avoids eye contact. “Kazimir…”

“Yes?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

They make eye contact. “This. _Everything_. What’s next?”

Kazimir glances at the sheets. “I am working on it.”

“What does that even mean!?”

He doesn’t respond.

Robert fiddles with his shirtsleeve. “There’s no point to anything. We should have never—”

“I’ve accomplished what I have wanted to,” Kazimir interrupts. “There is point. We have attacked and dismantled part of the Nation system. We have created the chaos Frank wanted. So we have got our revenge in that sense, and with that, I am happy. I can die in peace.”

Robert squirms.

Kazimir scoots closer. “And…you are with me now. I have accomplished everything.”

Bile rises in the back of Robert’s throat. “So then what’s next—”

Kazimir snatches his hand, and Robert is startled as he rolls up the sleeve he’s been fiddling with.

Kazimir frowns. “These cuts are new.”

Robert has no response.

Kazimir moves his hand away, staring at the floor. It feels like years pass when he finally says, “Do you want to be with me?”

“W-What?”

“Because I…We could leave together,” Kazimir forces out, his eyebrows pinched. “Live alone for the rest of our lives.”

Alarm bells go off in Robert’s head.

Kazimir continues to ramble, his accent increasing with every breath. “This is next step. As I have said, I have accomplished what I wanted. And you are with me, and we could be free. We do not need to stay here anymore. We do not have to live life like this anymore. We could be alone. Normal. We—just a quiet life. We could live that. I was thinking Kazakhstan. I lived there for a bit. You know. It is doable. We do not even have to think about the three in that room. They do not exist.”

“Why me?” is all Robert can get out.

“Why—what?”

His head is spinning. “I’m just a replacement for him!”

Kazimir blinks, then studies his hand.

“Robert,” he eventually whispers. “I never felt like this with Frank.”

Robert nearly forgets how to breathe.

“With you, this is…more intense.”

All he can hear is static.

“You kissed me back,” Kazimir mumbles, eyebrows furrowed. “That is why…”

They make eye contact, and Robert’s breath catches when he sees Kazimir’s expression. He’s wearing that ‘look.’

“I want the next step to be with you. Just you. No one else…”

Anxiety builds up in Robert’s stomach as Kazimir leans in closer. He feels rooted into place.

“So do you want to run away with me?” Kazimir whispers. “Forget all of this?”

“What about Ilse?” Robert chokes out. Kazimir’s breath is on his face.

“You did all you could for her,” Kazimir murmurs. He’s petting Robert’s hand. “You kept her alive when she would have died in building. You gave her ultimatum here. Someone else will be in charge of this group next, with their plans. As long as she cooperates with them, she will be fine.”

Robert nods. Kazimir’s forehead is nearly touching his.

“Robert,” Kazimir mumbles. “Please run away with me.”

He swallows.

Kazimir’s lips are hovering over his. “Please. I love you.”

Robert feels a confusing vortex of emotions run through his body just as Kazimir starts kissing him. He’s overwhelmed. He can’t do this.

He’s kissing back.

Something somewhere in his mind wants this so much it’s maddening, and he’s terrified.

* * *

 

 _May 30, 2015_

Robert wants to kill himself.

That would be the easiest way out of everything.

The thought of needing Kazimir, of Kazimir wanting _him_ , it’s so terrifying that it’s nausea-inducing.

The only solution, then, is to die. But with him dead, there’d be no reason to keep Ilse alive. He dragged her into this absolute fucking mess, so before he kills himself, he has to find a way to get her out. He owes her that much.

Right now, Kazimir is in a meeting, and Robert is hiding in one of the random storage rooms. He’s been avoiding him since the kiss, unable to focus or think about anything besides it.

He has a laptop and is currently staring at the blank screen.

The easiest—the easiest solution would be to send someone from the US government this compound’s location to rescue Ilse, but they might not believe him. That’s why he needs the layout of this building, a GPS location, and photo evidence.

The issue is that there are no cameras here to take any pictures.

As for the files, Kazimir would have them on his laptop, so Robert would just need to take it and transfer the documents. He could easily do that.

_Maybe I don’t even have to send anything. Maybe they already found this place._

He searches for the Washington Post and clicks on its homepage.

The main story is about how Donald Trump has died of a heart attack; nothing about Nation Advisors or bases in Palestine.

Kyrgyzstan walks into the room.

Robert slams the laptop’s lid shut and stands up in a shaky motion.

“Do you need help finding anything in here?” Kyrgyzstan eventually mumbles in English.

Desperation takes hold of him. “Yes. A camera.”

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۵/۰۹)

 _30 May 2015_  

“I don’t know, Kazakhstan said she heard rumors that Kazimir wants to step down,” Juhaina mumbles. “So if that’s the case, then I’m not sure what will happen next.”

Her uncle deflates. “Okay.”

She sighs when Dalia leans into her, half-glancing at Ilse and Prussia, who are having a private conversation in German.

She wants to talk to Prussia, but she’s afraid. Just sitting in the same room as him for the first time is already nerve-racking enough.

“He really can’t understand other languages?” she whispers.

Her uncle looks tired. “No, not really. He’ll have bursts where he can, but they’re becoming shorter and shorter.”

They all pause. Her uncle has already eaten the food they brought, and the tray is pushed off to the side.

Dalia suddenly takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Excuse me,” she says in German, walking over to Ilse and Prussia before Juhaina can say anything.

The two stop their conversation.

“Yes?” Ilse asks.

“I—I have some questions for Prussia.”

He looks at Dalia dully. “Shoot.”

“H-How old are you?”

“What are they saying?” her uncle asks as Prussia scrunches up his eyebrows.

“She just asked his age,” Juhaina mumbles.

Prussia frowns. “Like a little over 800 years? Maybe? You lose count after a while.”

Dalia blinks, seeming to have trouble processing that. “So we’ll also live for that long?”

“I—listen, kid, I’m not sure I can answer that.”

Dalia squirms. “If they come, are your friends going to kill us?”

It’s a possibility that everyone’s been grappling with. So far, their compound seems safe, but that could change any day.

Prussia blinks. “They…” He frowns. “I hope not.”

Juhaina’s uncle opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by some commotion in the hallway.

“You can’t go in,” Palau blurts out in English.

“I don’t give a shit,” an American responds.

“No,” Turkmenistan stresses, her voice sounding frantic.

A wave of terror washes over Juhaina. She makes eye contact with Dalia. Crap, maybe if they run to the door—

_Trays._

“The trays,” she blurts out, scrambling to grab them.

Dalia is close to panicking. “What?”

“We were delivering food. That’s why we’re here.”

The door opens, and Juhaina freezes.

It’s the man Robert.

They stare at each other for a solid moment. He then scrunches up his eyebrows.

“We were delivering food,” Juhaina rushes out before he can say anything. “They just finished eating, so we’ll be leaving now.”

“Why are you here?” Ilse sneers before they can move.

Robert has bags under his eyes. “I need to do something.”

Juhaina fidgets. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Palau and Turkmenistan hovering in the hallway.

“Why’s he here?” Prussia asks in German, glaring.

“I don’t know,” Ilse mutters back.

Robert seems unfazed by the language he doesn’t understand and takes a small digital camera out of his pocket.

“What the hell are you doing?” Juhaina’s uncle demands.

Robert holds up the camera and snaps a picture of him, Ilse, and Prussia.

Everyone blinks in confusion.

Robert moves, his face still expressionless, and takes a couple more pictures from another angle. Once he seems satisfied, he leaves without saying anything else.

Juhaina stands there, clenching the trays in disbelief.

“We should probably go,” Dalia mumbles.

Juhaina nods. Her uncle feebly waves to her. 

* * *

 

“Do you think he’ll report us?” Juhaina whispers that night.

Next to her in bed, Dalia shrugs. “…I don’t think so.”

“Everything sucks,” Juhaina mumbles. They’re facing each other, but she turns her head away. “I’m afraid for my uncle. But if Kazimir steps down or if our location is found—shit, I’m afraid for _us_.”

Dalia grabs her arm, and they make eye contact again. “I’m Dalia,” she whispers. “And you’re Juhaina. You have an uncle who isn’t some mythical being, and the woman he’s with is very nice. We can get through this. We can find a way for all of us to be safe.”

Juhaina sniffs.

“And maybe with Prussia, the other Nations won’t attack us. He’s the wild card. He doesn’t want to hurt us.”

“…”

Dalia reaches out and touches her face, and Juhaina freezes, staring at the locket around her neck

“Hey Dalia,” she eventually gets out.

She’s playing with her hair. “Yeah?”

“I like you.”

Dalia smiles. “I do too.”

“Not that kind of—”

“Juhaina, you kissed my cheek, and ever since then I’ve been doing stuff like this.” She fiddles with more of her hair as if to prove a point.

Juhaina feels her face heat up. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

Dalia scoots closer, causing her locket to be exposed, and laughs.

The moment Juhaina buries her face into her chest, everything feels like it’s going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Trump dies of a heart attack. Ted Cruz then uses his zodiac powers and kills all the other Republican runners, only to be outsmarted by Jeb Bush. He wins the Republican primaries. Hilary also doesn’t rig the Democratic primaries and Bernie wins. Jeb and Bernie build a lego set together. That’s what all the debates are. Bernie then becomes US President. All is slightly okay.
> 
> Except wtf the fuck the SK president being literally controlled by a cult


	29. Shakeup

_2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _25_ _일_  

South Korea is staring at his ceiling since he’s not really allowed to do anything else.

Four days ago, he and the others were told the Swiss wanted nothing to do with them anymore, so now he’s back in his home country.

He left the hospital on the 23rd. Honestly, the two extra days he was there are just a blur at this point, and the two days he’s been back home have also been nothing but a dull monotony.

He’s at the Blue House. Security has been increased to the max.

It’s pretty goddamn awful.

He’s not allowed any ‘communication devices’—no phones, computers, or shit that can connect to the Wi-Fi. Television can only hold his interest for so long, he hates reading.

God, he’s so bored.

He sighs, studying the crevices on his hands, debating whether he should nap or not. It passes the time, but then he’ll have trouble sleeping at night, which has already been hellish enough ever since leaving Geneva.

The first night, he woke up crying. Yesterday, he screamed himself awake.

South Korea takes a deep breath.

His nightmares are incomprehensible. The only thing he knows for sure is that they’re all centered on the incident at the UN building. Halim’s niece is sometimes in them too, looming, warning him about the future. South Korea hates her. Hates everything she stands for, everything she implies. He hates that he’s trapped here, hates that the future is uncertain, hates that he misses Hong Kong so much it hurts. Hates. Hates. Hates.

He groans and forces himself to roll out of bed, knowing he should probably eat something. Getting food has been hard, though. All the officials who used to watch over him have either been purged or killed, and these new ones don’t quite know what to do yet.

The hallways are somewhat empty, but there are still people milling around. They all refuse to make eye contact with him, though.

It’s worse in the kitchen. As soon as he steps into it, everyone in there freezes.

It’s the cook nearest to him who recovers first. “M-Mr. Im.”

“Can I just have some fruit,” South Korea mutters.

He quickly hands him some, then practically shoves him outside where Maeng is standing.

Now, if there’s anyone who’s been having a worse time than him, it’s her. The other day when Park was talking to the two of them, someone dropped something outside of the room, and she had a full-blown panic attack. Whenever South Korea sees her too, she looks on the verge of tears.

They make eye contact, and South Korea dips his head, ready to walk away until she speaks up.

“T-They’re still not cooking anything for you?”

He blinks. “Uh, no.”

“But I—I told them they should.”

South Korea feels very uncomfortable. “You’re not my Nation Advisor anymore, so…” _That’s probably why._

Maeng’s expression breaks. “Then what the hell am I? I didn’t do anything back in—”

“Is something the matter?” a soldier interrupts.

Maeng’s eyes flick to his gun. Her skin pales.

“No,” South Korea says quickly.

The soldier ignores him. “Ms. Maeng, I don’t believe you’re allowed to be wandering right now.”

“I was hungry,” she says meekly.

“Food will be provided later. Please, follow me. Let’s not resist again either.”

South Korea blinks, feeling a pit in his stomach as he and Maeng make eye contact. She sends him a pleading look.

“Let’s go,” the soldier tries again.

Maeng is frozen.

“Ji-Young, please.”

“Don’t you dare—”

Another soldier comes up from behind and grabs her. She shrieks, trying to bite his arm. South Korea stands there in muted shock. It’s like he’s invisible as Maeng is dragged down the hall. She starts screaming for ‘Angela,’ but is abruptly quieted.

Another soldier approaches him. “Do you need anything?”

South Korea shakes his head and quickly walks back to his room.

* * *

 

“We simply just want to assure that she’s not a threat to herself and others,” Park says, seeming unconcerned.

South Korea frowns. “But she wasn’t doing anything.”

“Ms. Maeng is mentally _unstable_.” She spits out the word ‘unstable’ like Maeng has some sort of gross infectious disease.

South Korea uncomfortably fidgets.

“But she has provided valuable information,” Park mutters, “so she’ll remain here. It’s also dangerous to let her go after all that’s happened.”

They’re sitting in Park’s office. It’s just past 7 PM, and South Korea is slightly out of it after having been roused from a nap.

“But she’s not the reason why I called you here,” Park says, switching topics.

“Then what is?” South Korea mumbles.

“There’s going to be a summit with the most involved Nations on June 1st. Security issues are a concern, so we’ll just be flying in and leaving on the same day.”

He frowns. “Where’s it being held?”

“Siberia. For security. All of the leaders and their Nations will be attending, and the next steps to finding that terrorist group will be discussed.”

South Korea is already dreading it. “Will I have to say anything?”

“No, you’ll go as a symbol. But because of such, I want you to put more effort into your appearance. You look like shit.”

South Korea glares. “The cooks aren’t making me any food. What did you expect?”

“What?”

“You—you _purged_ everyone here for security reasons, and the new people are frightened of me.”

Park seems genuinely surprised, which low-key infuriates South Korea. “But my advisor told me that doing so was the best decision,” she mumbles.

South Korea is sick of hearing about this advisor he’s never seen before. “ _They_ made the decision?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

He glares at her, and Park frowns. “I apologize that this has happened. I wish you told me earlier. I’ll give the cooks a schedule for you.”

“Maeng said she tried to do that, but nothing happened.”

“That’s because I informed everyone that any orders Ms. Maeng gives are invalidated. She’s mentally _unstable_. She can’t be trusted.”

South Korea is ready to leave.

“Is that all?” he forces out.

Park frowns. “You seem unhappy.”

“Am I supposed to be happy?”

“Unhappy Nations cause problems.”

They stare at each other.

South Korea looks away first. “Fine. Want to know what would make me happy? If I could talk to my friends. You monitor all of our conversations to begin with, so I don’t see why it’s an issue.”

“It’s an issue because you lost the right to communicate. It’s _your_ actions that are the reason why we as a country are involved in this mess.”

“So what, you’re going to make us even more miserable and make us hate our governments, which is the reason _why_ we acted out in the first place, and then expect us to cooperate in a fucking army!? This is why I’m unhappy!”

Park narrows her eyes. “You better not make me doubt your allegiance, or there will be consequences.”

South Korea is close to strangling her. “What, like with Maeng?”

A door opens before Park can say anything.

A woman walks in and points at South Korea. “You’re dismissed.”

South Korea has no idea who she is and doesn’t give a fuck. He clenches his jaw and storms away.

“He’s a good Nation,” the shady woman says as South Korea walks past her, her voice almost hypnotic. “Don’t get angry, Geun-Hye. It could be worse. At least he’s not a homosexual like—”

South Korea starts sprinting.

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _26_ _일_  

It’s 2 AM.

He’s staring at his ceiling, bored and anxious.

He misses everyone.

* * *

 

6 AM.

All he can see is the Chinese man he shot. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _05_ _월_ _30_ _일_  

“We’ll be leaving at 6 AM tomorrow. The flight should take around three hours, and the meeting starts at 10 AM. It shouldn’t last longer than four hours, and we’ll leave immediately afterward.”

South Korea dully blinks. “And this meeting is going to…?”

Park frowns. “I told you, we’re discussing what’s happening next.”

“But if we’re going immediately back to South Korea once it’s over, are we Nations not going to stay toget—”

“For security reasons, no. Unless something drastic is decided. And this meeting will not be the opportunity to socialize and have fun. This is serious. I expect you to treat it as such.”

South Korea glares.

“The other Nations are being told this too. No one will be using this time to sort out anyone’s ‘personal relationship’ issues.”

He really wishes he could strangle her. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _01_ _일_

South Korea is tired, he feels gross, his face is caked with makeup, the suit he’s wearing is stiff, he didn’t sleep at all last night…

The jet starts to land. 

* * *

 

He and Park are separated as soon as they enter the uninviting building.

“In here,” a Russian soldier commands, gesturing to a room.

South Korea enters quickly, avoiding eye contact.

“Stay in here until you’re fetched.”

The hinge screeches as the door moves back into place, and South Korea chews his lip. The room is empty except for some chairs arranged in a circle that Russia and Germany are on.

It’s dead silent.

South Korea glances at Russia and sees that his neck appears irritated.

He takes a seat, sitting as far away from the other two as possible, and studies his hands. After a few minutes, though, he can’t help but sneak a glance at Germany.

He’s expressionless. South Korea feels his stomach clench.

His vision blurs just as the door opens again.

It’s Japan who enters, and when Germany sees him, his face actually lights up a bit. Japan notices him and forces out a smile; then walks over.

“How are you doing?” he asks, sitting down.

Germany is stiff. “Okay.”

“Have you talked to Feliciano recently?”

“Yeah, Feli…”

The two break off into a conversation, and South Korea stares, almost feeling angry. They seem so _normal_ while he’s three seconds from losing it.

Some minutes pass. South Korea studies the wallpaper while Russia fiddles with his collar.

“So you finished watching the series?”

“Yeah. Admittedly, I …”

China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau enter the room.

South Korea blinks. Hong Kong completely avoids eye contact with him.

He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. China, in addition, doesn’t even look in Russia’s direction, and the group sits down, clumped together.

South Korea releases a shaky breath and stares at his lap, fighting back any intrusive thoughts.

_Kha Loung doesn’t like you._

_That’s not true._

_Then why is he avoiding you right now?_

_It’s because of his government._

_No, he—_

“I’m sick of hearing the construction sounds,” Germany tells Japan. “Especially since it’s right over me. I swear I kept turning up the TV volume to drown it out.”

“Can’t you escape the noise by going to your villa?”

“Yeah, but that’s…”

The door opens.

“Alfred, it’s fine,” England says, almost sounding exasperated.

He doesn’t respond.

England sighs, putting his hand on America’s back and guiding him over to the chairs.

Japan’s sentence falters.

“Don’t baby me,” America mutters.

“I’m not babying you.”

America sits down next to South Korea, and he blinks in response, getting jolted out of his thoughts.

Now Japan is openly staring.

“Like I was saying,” Germany continues as if nothing just happened. “The…”

South Korea studies America out of the corner of his eye, who seems pale and sleep deprived.

He’s suddenly desperate for human contact.

“More information was released about the _Fantastic Beasts_ movie,” England mutters after a few moments, clearly trying to distract America as much as possible. “Did you see it?”

“No…it’s coming out next year, right?”

England nods. “And _Star Wars_ is in December?”

He finally perks up. “Yeah! We have to see that together.”

“Kiku,” Germany hisses.

Japan jerks. “Ah. Uh, yes.”

South Korea’s eyes begin to unfocus again as he stares at America’s knee.

“I think his lightsaber looks cool,” America defends.

England rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t seem very practical.”

America snorts. Japan clenches up again. England keeps talking. Germany tries to force out a normal conversation. Hong Kong is staring at the carpet. Russia is still scratching his neck. Taiwan looks miserable. Macau seems out of place. China is wearing an emotionless expression.

South Korea spreads his legs, moving his right one so that it slowly comes closer to America’s knee.

They make contact.

America doesn’t even look at him, but he adjusts his leg so that it’s more comfortable, and South Korea releases a shaky breath. The warmth feels nice. It feels really nice.

Hong Kong and Japan are staring.

England rolls his eyes. “I don’t see the point of going on opening night.”

“To avoid spoilers!”

“But the theater is too crowded.”

“That’s the thrill of it all!” America nudges him. “Come on; go with me!” he fake whines.

England smiles, seeming pleased America is in a slightly better mood. “Well…”

South Korea looks at Hong Kong, whose expression twists. Hong Kong opens his mouth to say something, but China elbows him in the ribs. He deflates just as South Korea looks away and glances at America and England again. He then blinks, surprised when he makes eye contact with England. America is picking at his shirt as they exchange some sort of…South Korea doesn’t know what.t

“He wants to buy a restaurant,” Germany almost rambles.

“Ah,” Japan mumbles, staring at the ground.

The warmth of America’s knee seeps through South Korea’s pants. He forces himself to focus on it. 

* * *

 

Canada arrives next. Then Spain. Then France.

France sits as far away as he can from England as possible, next to Canada. Spain, meanwhile, reluctantly takes a seat next to Russia. He looks miserable. France looks miserable.

Everyone is miserable.

The clock in the room ticks on and on and on, and South Korea stares at it, willing it to be 10 AM so they can just go to the meeting and get everything over with. 

* * *

 

It’s 10:05.

The room is silent.

Well actually, Spain is making a lot of noise because he keeps shifting back and forth. Every few minutes he’ll look at Germany and open his mouth like he wants to say something, but he always seems to think better of it. 

South Korea chews his tongue. His leg is still against America’s, and once in awhile, he’ll feel Hong Kong glance at them, get some satisfaction, be guilty immediately afterward, then have an intense longing feeling to touch him.

It’s a vicious cycle.

10:07.

“Where are they?” Germany mutters, staring at the clock. If South Korea knows anything about him, it’s that he likes things to run on schedule.

“Just give it time,” Japan mumbles back.

Germany doesn’t seem to like that answer, but he holds his tongue.

“Have you heard anything?” Spain finally blurts out.

Germany becomes rigid, picking up the context immediately. “No. And now is not the time to discuss this.”

“But—”

“Now is not the time,” Germany snaps.

Anger flickers over Spain’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by sadness. He slumps into his chair.

“You’ve really heard nothing?” France whispers.

“Francis,” England hisses.

France leans over Canada’s side and glares at him as Canada mumbles something.

Germany’s expression twists. “Why would I lie?”

Spain gives him a look while Japan whispers something.

The clock ticks on.

* * *

 

At 10:13, the door finally opens, and they’re all escorted through the building to a meeting room where their leaders are waiting.

It’s a tense trip.

South Korea doesn’t dare make eye contact with anyone as they’re walking. Somehow, though, Hong Kong ends up hovering next to him the entire way, and it takes every bit of South Korea’s self-control not to reach out and touch him.

The meeting room’s situated so that there’s a large table in the middle, which all their leaders are seated at. There’s also a projector hooked up to a computer in the center of the room. Their leaders are quiet, earpieces in and ready to go, empty chairs next to them in anticipation.

South Korea sucks in some air and sits next to Park.

On his other side is Xi Jinping. He tries not to touch anyone as they all get into place, but space is minimal, so it’s hard. In the background, there are various security guards and other important officials too.

A wave of nausea passes over South Korea. He can feel Park scrutinizing any little movement he makes.

“We’ll now start,” Putin announces.

South Korea wants to leave. 

* * *

 

A Swiss woman is gesturing to a layout of the Geneva UN building, explaining point by point what happened.

Or at least what’s understood.

South Korea was paying attention in the beginning, but he can’t physically bring himself to focus anymore.

It’s only been 15 minutes.

“From the meeting room is where the surviving members…”

He glances at the clock.

_I just need to endure, like, two hours or something._

_What will happen afterward, though?_

_I’ll probably be going back to South Korea, which isn’t a bad thing. It’s not bad, yet…_

_From Matt’s weird polar bear documentaries to watching Ivan and Yao flirt. Playing video games with Alfred and teasing Kiku. Having moments with Gilbert, joking around with Mei, and everything with Kha Loung…_

_It’s been nice, despite everything._

_And now it’s over._ _Now Gilbert is dead._

_No. No, he’s alive somewhere. He has to be. With his advisor and the program director and the fucking niece—_

“One theory others have proposed is that he escaped with members of the terrorist group,” the Swiss woman continues. “We’ve yet to identify a body, so this could be plausible. But it’s also important to consider that once Nations die, they turn to dust.”

“Prussia has no connections to this terrorist group,” Angela Merkel, the German Chancellor, says sharply.

The Swiss woman doesn’t miss a beat. “In the past, though, he’s had secret connections before.”

Merkel narrows her eyes. “In the past, he had connections to a _resistance_ _group_ in France because his interests were directly involved.

“So why on earth would he even want to assist these terrorists? What would he gain from it? And if he is with this group, then why did he protect the American secretary of state and the Russian and Chinese foreign ministers during that previous incident?”

“Madam Chancellor, I must remind you that it is merely a theory.”

Merkel frowns.

“You must remember that he’s had direct connections with Robert Donati during this past month, as well as former ones with Kazimir Gorelov, so there are many reasons to question his allegiance.”

“We still don’t know if Mr. Donati was directly involved, though,” some American official interjects.

“But it’s been proven that Mr. Donati has had connections with Kazimir Gorelov,” a Russian official counters. “We’ve had multiple accounts of it.”

The Swiss woman clears her throat. “To continue, the escape route was the following.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“No one is supposed to be interrupting this meeting,” David Cameron, Prime Minister of the UK, mutters.

A few Russian security guards go over to open it, and South Korea cranes his head to see who’s there.

He hears American voices.

“Yes, we know,” a man hisses. “But we’ve received security clearance.”

“From who?” a Russian nearly spits back in heavily accented English.

“Other members of your security team. We have documented proof.”

“It’s true,” another Russian in the hallway says. “Let them in. This is important.”

It’s silent as the group of people enters, carrying folders stuffed with paper and a couple of laptops. South Korea recognizes one of them as America’s advisor, Angela.

“What is the meaning of this?” Putin asks.

The Russian from the hallway mutters the translation, and all the group’s members look at Angela. She takes a deep breath, appearing extremely nervous. “I…I apologize for this sudden interruption. However, information was just processed and—excuse me.” She takes another deep breath. “We know where Kazimir Gorelov is.”

“How?” Putin demands after the translation.

Angela glances at Obama, who seems just as confused as all the other leaders. She then focuses on the wall. “I have a Facebook profile. Robert Donati sent me classified information through its messaging system.”

“Ms. Lewis, when did this happen?” Obama asks.

“Only yesterday, early in the morning. I—I was busy so I never even checked the profile until late at night when it would no longer be a security issue. I notified my superiors immediately. It was agreed not to tell you until the information was validated because we weren’t sure if it was a hoax.”

“The Americans have shared everything with the security team here,” the Russian from the hallway states, in English for simplicity. “We are aware of the horrible timing.”

“How do you know where they are?” Putin pushes after the translation delay.

Angela squirms. “R-Robert Donati sent GPS coordinates as well as detailed layouts of the compound the group is based in. He also sent pictures of the most prominent members. We have all of this information prepared on a flash drive to share with you.”

“Then please share.”

Park mutters something to herself just as South Korea’s stomach twists into a knot.

Once the computer is set up, a presentation is opened.

Another American has taken over. “First I’ll explain where they’re located. Thanks to US intelligence, we’ve concluded that the terrorist group has a base underground in the middle of Gaza City.”

“How?” someone asks.

“The resources and money required to make that would be immense,” Stephen Harper, Canada’s Prime Minister, mutters.

“We’re not completely sure how the group managed it,” the American continues. He looks uncomfortable. “But…Kazimir Gorelov was given a lot of money over the years.”

Russia looks like he wants to throw up. Putin gives him a look of disgust.

The American coughs again. “Here are the location’s coordinates. The compound appears to be situated under a shop, which is being used as a front. As you can see, the underground construction is pretty large.” He pauses. “But according to Robert Donati, this base does not have nuclear weapons, nor any nuclear capability.”

“Then the terrorist group was bluffing,” Obama states.

“It appears so. However, this is just the word of one man, so it’s something to consider.” He clears his throat. “Now going back to the building, here’s the…”

He keeps talking, but South Korea can no longer focus. He can feel both Russia and China desperately trying to control their presences. America also seems extremely agitated.

“Further explanation of the base will be given later, though, because now I would like to move onto the pictures Robert Donati sent.”

South Korea fidgets.

“The first are of Kazimir Gorelov.”

It’s silent as they pop up onto the screen.

They’re blurry. The lighting is awful.

But South Korea can just make out Kazimir Gorelov sleeping.

It looks strangely intimate.

“He took multiple pictures,” the American continues.

South Korea’s eyes blur. He’s not sure if he’s overwhelmed or disgusted.

The American switches the slide. “Here’s something of interest, though.”

It’s Prussia.

He’s staring directly into the camera. Next to him is his advisor. Halim, meanwhile, is off to the side, two other girls behind him, both half cut out of the photo. Everyone looks caught off guard.

“Calm down,” Mariano Rajoy, the Prime Minister of Spain, hisses, jerking South Korea’s head over in his direction.

Spain’s eyes are bright red.

France’s presence is also expanding, and Germany is as white as a sheet.

“He’s alive,” Merkel states, matter-of-factly just as Spain covers his face with his hands.

“It seems like it,” the American replies.

Putin frowns. “Escort the Nations from the room. We’ll continue the rest of the meeting without them.” 

* * *

 

Spain and France are a mess while Germany has an utterly blank expression on his face.

“Why would that terrorist group have taken him?” Spain rambles.

France is pacing. “He could have been caught up in the chaos.”

“He wouldn’t have—he’s not there willingly.”

“No. Of course not.”

“We can rescue him. We—”

“What, with the Nation Army?” Russia interrupts, looking miserable. China is standing next to him.

Spain frowns.

“He’s in the middle of fucking Palestine.”

France’s expression breaks. Spain shakes his head rapidly. “That doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t think you understand—”

“Ivan,” China whispers.

Russia clenches his jaw.

America is pacing. “Maybe they won’t need us, though. Maybe they can resolve everything by themselves.”

Russia glares. “Then why would they have subjected us to weeks of training?”

“Let’s try to remain positive,” Canada interjects, forcing out a smile.

France gives an almost desperate nod. “Y-Yeah.”

“He’s alive. That’s better than what we originally thought.”

America’s presence is expanding. “Yeah, he’s alive, but he’s surrounded by crazy—”

“Alfred.”

“That group could still have nukes too! I want to trust Robert, but shit, that group could have fucking nukes because Ivan and I—”

“They have no means to launch nuclear weapons, come on,” China interrupts. “Stay level-headed. The information Donati gave is correct. He’s protected you in the past before, anyway.”

“Alfred,” Japan whispers, looking nervous. He shuffles away from Germany, who’s still completely frozen. “It’ll work out.”

“Yeah,” England murmurs, putting his hand on America’s shoulder. Japan’s eyes immediately shoot to it.

South Korea feels like he’s going to throw up. Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Macau are hovering near him, but he’s afraid to make eye contact.

“We’ll save him,” France whispers. “We have to.”

England removes his hand off of America’s shoulder, walking over to him, and Japan takes the opportunity to come closer.

America’s eyes are squeezed shut. “Kiku, you know we’re not supposed to be around each other right now.”

“I don’t care,” Japan hisses.

“Ludwig needs you.”

Hong Kong touches South Korea’s arm, and he nearly has a panic attack.

He quickly pulls away. “Sorry.”

“N-No,” South Korea blurts out. His heart is in his throat. “Don’t be.”

Taiwan throws her arms around both of their necks, pulling them close, just as Japan engulfs America into an embrace. Her skin is pale. “Cheer up! There’s, uh, hope. Yeah! Hope for the future!”

“You guys are going to be forced into a Nation army,” Macau mutters.

“Chiu, have a little tact,” Taiwan hisses, holding her position.

South Korea’s shoulder is touching Hong Kong’s, and shit, it feels really nice.

He lets out a breath. 

* * *

 

 _June 1, 2015_  

Angela, America’s Nation Advisor, stares at the security feed. Every now and then, her eyes will droop, and her head will nod.

She didn’t sleep at all last night.

_But God forbid I don’t spy on America._

_“Watch his actions with the Japanese Nation Avatar.”_

_What do you want me to do about it?_

_“It’s not acceptable here in Russia.”_

_Well._

_At least they aren’t hugging anymore._

Normally, she’d be with the other Nation Advisors, but most have either been killed, ran away, or were purged.

So it’s just her and some Russian.

She was hoping Ji-Young would be here, but…

She rubs her eyes.

_Once negotiations are worked out, the Nations will be going to Italy at Camp Darby for a week, and then taken to some Russian base in Syria._

_A week later on the 11 th is when the attack will be launched._

She only heard basic logistics, but she knows a major part of the plan involves bombing Palestine into the ground on the bare assumption that Gorelov’s group isn’t in possession of nukes.

The security feed blurs away.

_“Who would stop us if we all cooperated?” Putin declared._

_Xi frowned. “But they might have nukes.”_

_“How? I believe the word of the American man; having nukes seems nothing more than a scare tactic.”_

_Merkel was tense. “The surrounding countries won’t be happy if we go through with this,” she muttered._

_“But what would they do?”_

_Abe looked uncomfortable. “Is there no other way?”_

_“Mr. Putin has a point,” Obama cut in. “This is a major security issue, and this would be a way to solve it.”_

Angela focuses back on the Nations.

_After they bomb the place to ashes, all of you will move in and retrieve those necessary from the base, killing anyone who gets in your way._

Her stomach feels sick. She wishes she could stop what’s happening.

But she’s just a Nation Advisor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/20/world/asia/park-geun-hye-south-korea-extortion-accomplice-prosecutors.html
> 
> so like. I feel kind of iffy writing about ‘current’ events—but Park basically has this advisor that has been making important decisions for her + manipulating companies to give money—it’s a mess. She’s apart of this religious group; hence my cult comments the past two chapters. Idk, I just—felt wrong for portraying Park like an okay human being, so, that’s why I’m going down this path. I’ll eventually edit the other chapters with her, and make her character more… off. [and now that's edited]


	30. Are we doing this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gutted, so there may be typos until I do audio edits

_2015_ _年_ _6_ _月_ _1_ _日_

_“I don’t want you touching him.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“You know full well what I’m talking about. When we’re in Siberia, don’t touch him.”_

China pinches the bridge of his nose. He has a headache just thinking about that conversation.

He glances at Russia, his fingers twitching, then focuses on the ground.

_His neck is red._

Anger washes over him.

They’ve been in here for about an hour. At first, everyone was talking, but now it’s a tense silence, especially since America and Japan hugged earlier. China knows they won’t suffer the same repercussions he and Russia would, but he’s still nervous.

He’s leaning against the wall. While his back hurts, he’d rather not sit on one of the chairs. He might be tempted to touch Russia if he did.

He looks at the wall clock, willing time to pass quicker.

* * *

 

It’s been two hours now.

China is on the floor, and his back is bothering him. He’s ready to leave but also knows that leaving means he has to face the next set of consequences.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

 _Why didn’t I just let Ivan_ _shoot Kazimir in the fucking head?_   

* * *

 

It’s 3 PM when someone finally comes in.

They’re escorted silently to an airfield where a large number of American officials are waiting for whatever reason.

“The German and Macanese Nation Avatar aren’t coming. Escort them back inside,” one American mutters.

Germany blinks, and China frowns, making eye contact with Macau.

No one moves.

“Escort them back inside,” the American repeats more forcefully, and Russian security guards quickly herd the two away. China watches as Macau’s figure disappears.

“As for the rest of you,” the American man says, almost glaring at them once the other two are gone. “Us Americans will be responsible for your transportation to Camp Darby.”

America scrunches up his eyebrows. “Why are we going to Italy?”

“Everything will be explained when you’re there.

“Entertainment items are being prepared, and meals will be provided. You’re free to do whatever while you’re alone, and security will be in a separate area. Don’t complain.” The American man looks over his shoulder, gesturing to some people. “Before I lead you to the jet, some of your officials are here to talk.”

China feels a headache forming as a group of people approaches him, Taiwan, and Hong Kong.

“A Chinese delegation will be going to Camp Darby as well,” one of his officials explains when close. “But their transportation will be separate.”

The three of them nod because they’re supposed to.

Another person clears his throat. China recognizes him as his replacement advisor, the one whom he had the awkward conversation with earlier.

They make eye contact.

“We want your cooperation.”

China frowns. “You have it.”

A look of disgust passes over the man’s face. “Chairman Xi gave his orders. He also wants your cooperation.”

“I told you—”

“If touching the Russian means that everything will operate smoothly, then you have our permission for the time being.”

The statement slaps China in the face, and for a second he loses grip of his emotions. It must show too because the official seems satisfied when he and the two other people leave.

Taiwan sticks her tongue out at them.

“Mei,” China hisses.

“What are they going to do, yell at me?”

China sighs. Hong Kong kicks a pebble.

They trudge to the plane in silence. 

* * *

 

It’s been about 3 hours, and China is ready to land.

_But at least…_

Russia shifts. “I hate American films where Russians are demonized.”

China’s head is on his shoulder. “There have been fewer instances of that now that American film companies want the world’s money, though.”

Russia yawns. “I guess.”

China’s eyes move to his neck.

_“It’s not a chip,” Russia quickly said when China asked him about it._

_“I don’t believe you.”_

_“But it’s not. Ever since the attacks in Geneva, it’s been irritated. I don’t know what it’s responding to, but…”_

_“Do they want to put another chip in you?”_

_Russia didn’t make eye contact. “Yeah, but not now. Later, maybe. They want to put it to practical use.”_

_“…And what’s that?”_

_“Chipping us before we go into battle.”_

Russia keeps scrolling through the movie library on the tablet they were given.

“Put on something happy,” China murmurs.

“What, _Interstellar_ wasn’t happy?”

He shrugs, leaning more into Russia’s side. “Are there any non-American movies?”

“Besides British, not really.”

“There are some Japanese ones,” America says from behind them, startling both Russia and China.

They look through the seat crack.

America and Japan are pretty much in the same position as them. America gives a sheepish smile. “There’s, like, a weird amount of Japanese movies at the bottom of the list.”

“And they aren’t even good ones,” Japan mumbles. “Most are based on anime.”

“Jesus Christ,” Russia mutters, turning around again.

America kicks the back of his seat. “They’re fun!”

Japan, meanwhile, almost looks offended. “They’re at least better than the weird Soviet animations Alfred sends me at 2 AM.”

Russia ignores him. “I’m finding another movie about space.”

“You do that,” China says, laughing softly.

They’re in the front row of the plane to the left; France and England to the right of them. Behind China and Russia is America and Japan, Spain next to them, and behind Spain is Taiwan and Canada. South Korea and Hong Kong are on the opposite side.

China glances out the window. Russia has the seat next to it, but he can still get a good enough look.

The sky is bright blue. It’s pretty.

Russia is staring at him.

China gives a tiny smirk. “I thought you were picking a movie.”

Russia blinks, his face blossoming pink as he quickly turns his attention to the tablet. “I am.”

_I love you._

China pauses and stares at his lap, suddenly feeling restless. He then leans in, and Russia’s pupils move so that they make eye contact again.

“I’m happy we’re together right now,” China whispers.

“Me too,” Russia murmurs.

They stare at each other.

Russia averts eye contact first. “I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

“Then do it.”

“We can’t.”

“No one else is here.”

“But security.”

“My advisor told me it was okay,” China breathes, leaning in.

That’s all the confidence Russia needs because he hungrily pulls him forward.

“Hey, hi, we’re right behind you,” America’s says loudly after China nips Russia’s lip and makes him moan.

Russia shoves his hand through the seat crack and gives him the middle finger.

* * *

 

It’s been 7 hours.

Russia is currently passed out, and to keep himself occupied, China’s been messing around with the tablet. His mind keeps wandering, though, thinking about the Nation Army, what they have to do now, and…

Prussia.

It gives him a headache just thinking about how they’re going to rescue him.

China closes his eyes, his thoughts flickering to Kazimir, feeling his stomach clench up as it usually does when he thinks of him.

He wishes he could turn back time, stop himself from telling Russia that killing him wasn’t worth it.

_Kazimir is alive because of me._

He rubs circles into Russia’s hand, whose presence flares up, making him feel dizzy. He then shifts and glances between the seat crack. Japan is passed out, his head on America’s lap and his legs contorted to fit into the remaining room. America, meanwhile, has his hand in Japan’s hair, and he’s staring off into space, his eyes unfocused.

_Kazimir is alive because of me._

America absentmindedly massages Japan’s scalp, and China looks back at Russia’s sleeping figure.

He nearly bursts into tears.

* * *

 

 _le 1 juin 2015_  

It’s supposedly 7:43 PM. France wouldn’t know, though, since he’s too jetlagged to comprehend time correctly.

Their plane just landed in the middle of the American military base, and they’re currently disembarking it. In front of him, America and Canada are joking around. France watches, wishing he could at least pretend to be that carefree.

His depression is slowly taking hold of him. The news that Prussia is _alive_ has helped, but everything else is still so uncertain.

Dealing with Spain has also been stressful.

There was that moment back in Siberia when they were both talking, but now…

Spain is back to ignoring him.

His emotions have been all over the place recently. France wants to help; yet, Spain is making it very damn hard for him to do anything.

He sighs. They’re on the ground now, a group of American soldiers walking over to greet them.

“How are you feeling?” England whispers.

_That’s a loaded question._

“Tired, I guess,” France mumbles.

_Don’t strain yourself for my sake, Arthur._

_I’m not worth it._

“Hi!” an American says, his voice obnoxiously loud. “I’m Lieutenant General Duran, and me and my men will be directing y’all to your sleeping quarters. As you can see, this base is like a little town, and the section y’all be staying in will be blocked off. So if you follow me…”

He starts walking. They trudge after him.

“Like I was saying, this base is divided into different sections. Some have shops, while others have gyms, training facilities, airfields, shooting ranges. Oh and then, of course, there are the apartments. Each has two bedrooms, four beds in total. I was given a housing arrangement too. Colonel Jacobs, could you read it off?”

“Yes, Sir, um.” He squints at the piece of paper he’s holding. “K-Kiku, Alfred, Eye-van, and Yao will be in one together.”

“He pronounced my name wrong,” Russia mutters.

“Yong-Soo, Mei, and K-Kha Loung will be in another, and then Antonio, Francis, Arthur, and Matthew will be in the last.”

“Eye-van,” America snickers.

“It’s Ee-van. Shut up.”

They walk for another couple of minutes until Duran announces, “We’re here!”

It’s not the worst thing France has ever had to stay in

“There’s some clothing, food, and other basic amenities,” a soldier explains once he, England, Canada, and Spain are led inside. “Be ready by 9 AM tomorrow, that’s when we’re picking you up. And for security reasons, don’t leave this house either.”

France makes eye contact with Spain once their entourage is gone, but Spain quickly walks away, going upstairs to the bedrooms.

France sighs, feeling utterly drained.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles after he can feel England and Canada stares.

England nods. Canada fidgets. “Um. Where should I sleep?”

“With Antonio?” England says, frowning.

“I’m…not sure he wants me to be in the same room as him.”

“Well, there are two beds in each,” France mutters. “So you could take the other one in ours if you want.”

England looks at Canada. “It’s your choice.”

Canada’s face scrunches up. “No offense, but I’d rather be with South Korea’s group right now.”

England rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t like having him as a roommate.”

“Okay, he has nightmares, but I never had to worry about him having sex.”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

France forces himself to laugh, but it comes out hollow, and England won’t stop looking at him as they walk upstairs.

One bedroom door is wide open while the other is closed. France stares at the closed door; then bites the inside of his cheek and goes into the bathroom. There are four toothbrushes. The shower also has shampoo and soap.

France fidgets, standing there for a bit with his eyes glazed over until England comes in.

“There are pyjamas in the bedroom; should I bring you some?” he asks.

France plays with his hair. “Yeah. I think I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay. But let Matthew and I brush our teeth first.”

France sits on the toilet seat and waits for them to finish. Canada does so quickly. England lingers.

He shuts the door once Canada leaves.

“Francis, talk to me.”

France rubs his face. “About what?”

England frowns. “I don’t know…I just want you to feel better.”

“When I see Gilbert, I will.”

“…”

France gives a broken smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” England says quickly. He stares at the sink. “Antonio isn’t being of much comfort.”

“He’s going through a lot too.”

“So it’s acceptable to take it out on you? Rubbish.”

France fidgets.

“What’s next, is he going to choke Leon again?”

France sighs, and England walks over, stooping down so they’re at eye level.

France studies his hands. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic.”

“Then why is my mental health so fragile right now?”

“Francis.”

“Gilbert was my reason to get better before, and now he’s…gone.”

“I’m here for you too, you know,” England murmurs. “You still have me.”

France suddenly feels a sob in the back of his throat. “I—I do know that. You’ve been there for the past seventy years. God, I don’t understand.”

England picks at a hangnail. “Well, half of the time I can’t understand why you like me.”

They make eye contact. France furrows his brow. “What are you—What does that even mean?”

“Are you joking?”

“No?”

England stands up straight and backs away. “I just don’t understand why someone like you would like me of all people. Just after being…rejected, I don’t understand how I—how you came to like someone like me.”

“But I struggle with depression, and you, fuck, Arthur, you’re so—” France makes a vague gesture with his arms.

Silence.

“Nice,” he ends up blurting out. “Caring. Thoughtful. Beautiful.”

England’s face is turning red. “Stop.”

“But—”

England moves closer again and cups his face.

France blinks.

His cheeks are flushed. “I…love you. You know that, right?”

France’s eyes are burning again, but this time not from tiredness. “I love you too,” he breathes.

England sighs, leaning in and pecking him on the lips. He then moves away, but France chases him, bringing him in for another, more drawn out kiss.

They break away, only for air.

“You wanted to take a shower, remember?” England whispers.

“Take one with me.”

“You know I hate showering at night.”

France is feeling a bit better, so he does his best job to put on a puppy-dog face. “Please?”

“…”

He gives a half-hearted smirk. “It would make me feel better.”

England rolls his eyes. “Of course it would.”

“So?”

England smiles. “Fine.”  

* * *

 

Canada is passed out when they get back to the room.

The shower was pleasant. It was just, nice to have that much intimate contact with England. Touch his hair. Massage his back.

They throw on pajamas and climb into bed. It’s small, but they contort themselves to fit. England falls asleep almost instantly, but despite being exhausted, France stares at the ceiling.

Thinking.

About Prussia. The director’s niece. The fact Nations could have had families at one point…

He can’t let his last conversation with Prussia be an argument. 

* * *

 

 _le 2 juin 2015_  

It’s taking all of France’s self-control to keep himself from yawning.

“You’ll be doing last minute training here for a week until preparations are finished at the Russian-Syrian base,” the American drones on. “These preparations should be completed by the 9th. Military equipment needs to be transferred, but don’t concern yourselves with that. Instead, you’ll be focusing on a training program.”

“But we already did training,” Hong Kong mutters. France sees China elbow him in the side.

They’re in some pseudo-classroom, sitting at desks that are facing the American man. He’s on a podium, and his forehead is shiny with sweat.

“You’ll be split into groups to focus on different roles,” he continues. “A preliminary plan has been drafted. The more minute details will be broken down to you later, but I’ll give a brief overview now.

“Since the compound is located in the middle of the city, there could be an opportunity for members of the terrorist group to slip out amongst the civilians. So that obstacle will be removed.”

_…Removed?_

A bead of sweat rolls down the American man’s bald forehead. “A bombing campaign will first take place. We’re going with the hunch that there are no nuclear weapons, so that should pose no issues. And then once there’s adequate enough destruction, you Nations and Special Forces will move in.”

France’s ears start ringing.

The man wipes off his sweat. “Four helicopters will be taken. You’ll all ride in one while Special Forces will be on the other. In addition, there’ll be two empty ones, both which will be used for retrieving the twenty-three Nations the terrorist group is currently holding hostage. Forty-two bodies need to be recovered in total, the rest being the most prominent members of the terrorist group. Government leaders want to ensure their death by DNA analysis. The remaining members are minor, so they will just be eliminated in a missile strike afterward.”

France’s mouth feels dry.

“The different groups you’re in will ensure efficiency,” the American continues. “Hong Kong and Taiwan, your job’s to identify bodies, plus ensure that those needed to be brought back to the helicopters are.”

Both of their faces are pale. China narrows his eyes.

The man continues. “Japan and South Korea, you’ll be with Hong Kong and Taiwan to ensure their security, as well as help retrieve bodies. America, Russia, and China, you’re the leading group whose job is to track down the Nations, plus eliminate anyone alive from the terrorist group. You’ll kill the Nations to ensure their cooperation too.

“And France, Spain, England, and Canada, your first job’s to take the found Nations back to the helicopters and ensure that they stay dead.” The man wipes his forehead again. “Your other job’s to…find the Prussian Avatar.”

France and Spain both sit up straight.

“There’s currently a debate on whether or not Ilse Richter and Halim Anwar pose a threat. We’ll let you know later whether or not you should eliminate them.”

“While this entire thing is happening, a media diversion’ll be created,” a new voice says. They all glance at her. “Major social media sites’ll also be censored. Since this is going to be a massive effort, the date that it’ll all happen is not likely to change. So expect to be launching this attack on the 11th.”

The bald man speaks again. “Training will begin tomorrow since certain things still need to be set up and organized. As for the rest of the day, you’re free to wander around the section that’s been designated to you.”

“Did you tell them about the Italian government?” the woman asks.

“Ah, no. The Italians are sending out their two Nation Avatars today as a diplomatic gesture. The German one will also be accompanying them.”

France blinks.

“They’ll be in around two hours, so look forward to that.” 

* * *

 

There isn’t a whole lot to do.

It’s a nice summer day, so they’re all outside, sitting on the grass under a tree that’s near their apartment complex. France is leaning against England, both of them zoning out. Earlier, he tried having a brief conversation with Spain.

It didn’t go anywhere.

Canada is lying on his back, staring at the leaves, while America and South Korea are drawing something in the dirt with a stick. Near them, Hong Kong and Taiwan are mumbling to each other, looking pensive as Japan, China, and Russia have a hushed conversation.

Spain is the most disconnected from the group. He’s off by himself, staring at the asphalt.

The Italian brothers and Germany should be arriving soon.

France doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know what to feel right now; the whole plan seems insane.

They’re completely _eliminating_ Gaza City.

Shit, he wants to rescue Prussia, but…

“You okay?” England mumbles.

France snaps out of his daze. “What?”

“Your presence was expanding.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m fine.”

England rubs his back. Canada mumbles something about how a cloud is shaped like a heart.

“What do you think Gilbert is doing right now?” France breathes.

England frowns. “Don’t worry about it right now.”

He gives a broken smile. “Worrying about him is the only way I can justify all of this.” 

* * *

 

It’s 12:30, and the Italian brothers and Germany still haven’t arrived.

France sighs into the mirror, washing his hands. He wants Romano to get here, hoping that he’ll help him talk to Antonio to resolve what’s between them, but…

He opens the bathroom door and nearly has a heart attack when he sees Russia.

“Do you need anything?” he asks after he recovers.

“The toilet.”

“Ah.”

Russia walks past him. “Also, they’re here.”

France grabs his shoulder. “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“…”

“You can let go of my shoulder now.”

France drops his hand, feeling frazzled. He then means to apologize, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Your neck is red.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Russia narrows his eyes.

France can never figure out his personality. He’s not as creepy as he once thought, but…

Russia looks at the ground. “They were testing stuff on it,” he eventually mutters.

France feels a pit in his stomach. He’s not sure why he’s pressing this. “Testing what?”

Russia doesn’t respond.

“Alfred said something before about a tracking device?”

His expression twists. “Yeah. That.”

“But why’s your neck red?”

“Healing blockers. They injected me with them so I wouldn’t pick the fucking chip out of my neck again.”

Silence.

“Don’t tell Yao,” Russia blurts out.

France’s head is spinning. “Wait, he doesn’t—”

“Don’t tell him.”

“…”

“Please.”

“How long do the healing blockers last?” France asks, frowning.

“I don’t know, a few hours? They don’t know either. This shit is new to them.” Russia gives a twisted smile. “The Russians weren’t doing medical experiments until this stupid _thing_ gave them access to all the drugs the Americans have.”

France’s mouth is dry. “I think you should tell China.”

“NO!”

France flinches. Russia seems twitchy. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“I’m the one who asked,” France replies, feeling dazed.

He moves to the side as Russia goes into the bathroom, then stumbles out of the apartment.

China is there.

“Russia is in the bathroom,” France gets out.

“Why did his presence expand?”

“He’s in the bathroom.” France scoots past him where Canada and England are waiting.

“Have the other three gotten here yet?” he asks when close.

England shakes his head. “A soldier just took Spain and Japan to greet them.”

France sighs, noticing that South Korea, America, Taiwan, and Hong Kong are still under the tree. Hong Kong and South Korea are looking at something on one of the tablets they were given, their heads pressed together, and America and Taiwan are talking about something separate. America is fidgeting. Taiwan is frowning.

“Alfred,” England calls after Taiwan starts pestering South Korea and Hong Kong.

He trudges over.

“You look like shit.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“What were you talking about?”

“Nothing,” America mumbles.

England frowns. Canada’s stomach obnoxiously growls.

“There’s food back in the apartment,” France murmurs.

Canada rubs his face. “Yeah, but it’s like, shitty canned goods.”

America finally cracks a smile. “Arthur could cook you something.”

“No thanks.”

England looks offended. “Even I can—”

He’s cut off by two ATVs coming down the road. Germany, Italy, and Japan are on one. Spain and Romano are on the other.

France’s throat feels dry.

America squirms. “I hate it when Kiku is with Italy and Germany.”

“You hate it?” England asks.

The ground suddenly seems very interesting to him.

“Is this what you were talking about with Mei?”

“He ignores me when they’re together…”

“Al, Kiku’s in love with you,” Canada bluntly states.

America’s face turns pink.

Spain is getting off the ATV, so France tries to distract himself. He slings his arm around America’s shoulders. “Aw, I’d never thought I see the day where you’d look this bashful.”

Just as America swats at him, Japan seems to metabolize next to them. He gives France a look. France drops his arm.

“Come hang out with us,” Japan then murmurs to America like none of that just happened.

America fidgets. “But don’t you want alone time?”

“I want you to come with us.”

America studies his shoes. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You never get in the way…”

“France! England! Canada! America!” Italy basically cheers as he runs over. Germany is warily following him, and France notices he has bags under his eyes.

Italy ignores how awful everyone looks. “Huh, I haven’t been to this camp in ten years. The locals hate it.”

America forces out a smile. “I don’t think the locals anywhere like American military bases.”

“True!” Just as he says that, Romano walks over with Spain trailing two paces behind.

The silence that follows is very uncomfortable.

Italy glances around. “Let’s do something fun!”

“There isn’t much here, though,” Japan says, frowning.

“Only in this section. Why can’t we leave it again?”

He’s met with shrugs.

“Okay, then that’s bullshit. Let me go bribe someone.”

Germany seems nervous. “Wait, Feliciano.”

He practically skips away.

“He’ll convince them,” Romano mutters when he’s gone.

Spain frowns. “I don’t think he should, though. We shouldn’t be—”

“Jesus Christ, lighten up.”

Spain snaps.

As they start screaming at each other, France’s hopes about Romano helping Spain and him reconcile start to get dashed.

Italy comes back looking exhausted. “What are they arguing about?”

“I do know since you’ve been texting me non-stop!”

“What am I not allowed!?”

Canada takes a swig of his water bottle while Japan whispers something to America. “Nonsense.”

Italy rubs his face, his persona completely gone. “Typical.”

“Don’t pull this bullshit, Antonio.”

“I’m not the one who takes meds!”

“Fuck you—”

“Did you bribe someone?” Germany forces out.

Italy blinks, then puts on his signature grin. “Yeah. My advisor.”

“I’m not ashamed to admit what’s wrong with me. Clearly, you are.”

“Lovi—”

“Do not ‘Lovi’ me.”

“Do we want to go now?” Japan asks, completely ignoring the fight.

Italy half glances at the other two. “Sure! What about you three?”

France feels sick to his stomach. “Have fun without us.”

America shoots England a panicked glance. England waves him off when Japan clenches onto his arm.

“That’s it.”

“What!?”

Romano looks away. “I’m breaking up with you.”

It gets dead silent. Even Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea stop talking.

Spain looks in disbelief. “What?”

“I should have done this sooner, sorry,” Romano mutters.

“Sooner?” Spain mouths.

Romano joins Italy. “Where are we going?”

He only pauses for a split second. “Uh. This way!”

France watches them in a daze as Japan drags America, then glances back at Spain’s frozen figure.

“Let’s go make lunch,” Canada mumbles.

France glances back at Spain as they walk back to their apartment, feeling helpless. 

* * *

 

 _June 2, 2015_  

America feels very uncomfortable.

“Let’s get some smoothies!” Italy nearly yells, pointing.

“Do you have money?” Germany asks.

Italy hits Romano, who’s been silent this entire time. “Lovino does.”

Romano waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

“Alfred,” Japan whispers as they start walking over. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” America interrupts. “Let’s just have fun, alright?” He then forces out a laugh, hating himself for being so weird whenever Japan is with his other friends. The argument between Romano and Spain, and then the whole fucking Gilbert and Nation Army situation isn’t helping him calm down either.

Japan frowns, studying him as they get into line. He looks like he’s about to say something else until Italy starts pestering him about what flavor he’s getting.

America looks at the menu. The words are blurry, though, and it’s hard to focus.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”

America completely freezes up.

“What I got,” Japan says quickly, using an American accent.

The worker blinks dully, moving to prepare his drink.

“Thanks,” America mumbles pathetically.

They start walking again after everyone has theirs. America ends up behind the other three with…Romano.

It’s Romano who finally breaks the awkward silence.

“Why don’t you join them?”

“Because they’re having fun,” America mumbles, staring at his smoothie. It’s half gone. It really isn’t that good.

“They wouldn’t mind,” Romano says as he looks for a trashcan. “Kiku especially.”

America feels his face heat up. There are no trashcans.

“You two are really good for each other. I’ve never seen him this genuine.”

America’s tongue feels twisted.

“You and Spain,” he gets out. “I thought…”

Romano sighs. His smoothie looks like it hasn’t been touched. “I was leading him on. It could have never worked out.”

“…”

“That’s why looking at you and Kiku makes me happy.” He rubs his face. “I know this wasn’t the most appropriate time to end things with Antonio, but he needs to grow up and realize it’s not just him worried about Gilbert.”

Italy is now pointing at a playground and trying to convince Germany and Japan to go on the swings with him. It’s not working.

Romano fiddles with his cup. “Is Gilbert okay?”

America swallows. “In the picture, he looked unharmed…at least.”

“Please…try your best to rescue him.”

America thinks of the city they half to bomb to the ground. He squirms. “We’re really going to try.”

“I’m sorry all of you have to go through this.”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

Italy has somehow gotten Germany on one of the swings. Japan is cracking up.

“Are you going to drink that?” America asks to avoid the question, pointing to Romano’s smoothie.

He looks at it. “No. It’s not that good, anyway.”

America suddenly has a weird flashback. “Okay, that smoothie you sent Prussia was gross, so I don’t know if I can trust your sense of taste.”

Romano smirks. “It was healthy at least. This shit is just gross.”

Italy is now clutching his sides because he’s laughing so hard.

“Let’s join them,” Romano suggests. “They’ll be happy.”

Japan’s face lights up when they get close. America feels the stress seep out of him. 

* * *

 

It’s just after dinner.

The food wasn’t bad. Some cooks prepared a meal for them, which was nice…

America fidgets.

They’re all in one apartment together. Taiwan, Japan, Italy, Romano, and Germany are playing cards at the kitchen table. America doesn’t know where Spain is. Off moping in his room, probably.

He, meanwhile, is in the attached living room, on the couch. South Korea is next to him. South Korea is also completely enamored with Hong Kong, who’s on his other side, and it’s really annoying.

America’s used to getting South Korea’s attention when he wants it. He knows he’s being childish. He’s still annoyed.

Russia and China are crammed into an armchair together. They’re silently watching TV, looking content, and America is envious.

Japan laughs from the other room.

America swallows. He wants to grab Japan and tell everyone else to back off, wants to have Japan to himself like he has for the past month.

He knows he’s really being childish now.

He should join England, Canada, and France, who are joking around with one another in the kitchen, but he feels unsure of himself.

“No, move it there,” Hong Kong says, nearly giggling, which America finds utterly bizarre.

South Korea seems infatuated. “What, here?”

Hong Kong playfully smacks him. “You’re so bad at chess.”

“You know, I’m sure there’s a mahjong app that exists. We could download it.”

“Well, I’m sure I’d master that game faster than you’ve done with chess.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

_Is this what it feels like to be around Kiku and me?_

America stands up and sees Russia and China’s eyes follow him.

_What do you two want?_

South Korea also looks over his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“Just outside for some fresh air,” America mumbles.

South Korea opens his mouth to say something else, but Hong Kong distracts him.

Their voices fade as he exits the front door.

It’s a nice night, not too hot or humid, and America finds himself walking over to the tree they sat under for a good couple of hours.

He picks at its bark and sighs, desperately trying not to think about what tomorrow’s training is going to be like.

“Hey,” Canada’s voice eventually cuts in.

America blinks, looking over his shoulder. “Hi.”

Canada walks up next to him. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

A few moments pass.

America fidgets. “I thought you were talking to Arthur and Francis.”

“Yeah, and then they started flirting, and it’s like watching your parents flirt, so.”

_Parents…_

America forces out a laugh. That’s another thought he doesn’t want to dwell on. “I’ve never thought of Arthur as my parent. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Canada shrugs. “Your past with him is different from mine.” He pauses. “And clearly he doesn’t think of you as a son; otherwise he wouldn’t have—”

“Let’s not go down that path,” America interrupts, hating to talk about it. He squirms, the despite himself says. “I guess we had real parents at one point, though.”

Canada looks away. “It’s weird to think about, but considering Halim’s niece…” Canada shakes his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” America snaps, sick of him and England acting like he’s about to lose it.

“You don’t get so defensive when Kiku asks you.”

America’s face heats up. He’s getting really sick of it. “Because Kiku is different.”

“Since he’s your boyfriend.”

“God, Matt, shut up.”

Canada grins, then sobers up his expression. “I just care about you, though. Arthur too. So don’t get offended.”

“…”

“Why are you out here all alone?”

“I wanted some fresh air...”

They both stand there for a bit.

America eventually takes a deep breath. “How do you...cope with all of this.”

“I look to the future and know that it’ll be over soon,” Canada murmurs.

“I’m afraid of the future.” America’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“Everyone is,” Canada responds, his voice soft.

America let’s out a shaky breath. Canada hugs him.

They stand there for a while.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Canada eventually asks, moving away.

“Going back means basically third-wheeling everyone again,” America mutters.

“Welcome to my personal hell.”

America gives him a playful shove.

* * *

 

He hangs around Canada, England, and France for the rest of the night until Germany, Italy, and Romano leave around 10 PM.

Spain doesn’t even come out to say goodbye.

Tomorrow everyone has to be up by 7 AM, so as soon as those three are gone, they all retreat to their rooms.

America and Japan are in theirs. Japan is in a good mood. “I’m glad they were able to come. It was a nice distraction,” he says as he’s throwing on his pajamas.

America is sitting on the bed, fiddling with his socks. “Yeah…”

Japan finishes putting on his t-shirt, finally covering up that nasty scar.

He’s looking at him and frowning.

America forces out a smile. “It was fun. Those smoothies sucked, though.”

Japan sits next to him on the bed, and America leans his head on his shoulder. He immediately adjusts himself so that he’ll be more comfortable.

It’s quiet except for the sound of running water.

“What’s wrong?” Japan breathes. “You seem distracted.”

America forces himself to look up.

“What’s wrong?” Japan repeats.

He bites his lip. _The whole breakup between Spain and Romano is rattling me, I’m terrified at what we have to do in a week, and you’ve barely paid attention to me all day_.

“I love you,” is what tumbles out of his mouth.

Japan blinks, his expression twisting. “You’re upset because you’re in love with me?”

“No,” America says quickly.

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I dunno; you were hanging out with your friends today.”

Japan opens his mouth.

“Which is fine,” America blurts out. “You can hang out with whoever you want, but I don’t know I’ve been used to having you to myself, which sounds really stupid now that I’m saying it out loud, and then Yong-Soo was also distracted, and I don’t know I feel weird.”

Japan frowns.

“Spain’s and Romano’s breakup is also spinning in my head, and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen tomorrow, so right now I’m just trying to soak you in, I guess,” America rambles. His face is hot. “Because I feel calmer when I’m with you, so that’s probably why I look distracted. Sorry.”

“Alfred,” Japan eventually murmurs, placing his hand on his.

America releases a shaky breath. “Sorry,” he repeats.

“No, don’t be.”

They make eye contact.

Japan sighs. “I’m…sometimes I think I’m projecting my own feelings onto you, so hearing something like this is giving me a stupid amount of satisfaction.”

America buries his face into Japan’s neck, attempting to soak up his presence and warmth as much as possible.

“It’s the same for me, you know,” Japan murmurs, massaging his hand. “When you’re with Arthur, Francis, and Matthew, I get jealous.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s just,” Japan laughs softly, “it’s couple things I guess.”

America looks up. Japan’s face is red.

His expression then turns serious. “Don’t dwell on the breakup, though. That’ll never happen to us.”

America feels a pit in his stomach.

“And it’s almost over,” Japan hums.

“I’m afraid at what’s coming, though,” America whispers, his voice shaking.

“We’ve gotten through worse before. We can do it again.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Japan pulls him into a hug. “Nothing will. And you’ll be fine too. We’ll both be fine. We’ll rescue Gilbert too.”

_Will we?_

They listen to each other breathe.

“I love you,” Japan murmurs.

America is close to tears. “I love you too.”

 _More than I can even fathom._  

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _02_ _일_  

South Korea’s chest feels constricted.

It’s the middle of the night. He and Hong Kong are in the same bed while Taiwan is in the one across the room.

South Korea’s head starts to spin when Hong Kong moves closer. The previous night was the first time that they could truly be alone, and at first, Hong Kong was distant and seemed pissed off at him. Then, though, Taiwan mentioned something about America, and everything just snapped.

_“Why were you touching him?” Hong Kong demanded, his voice cracking._

_They were in the bedroom, and South Korea’s head was pounding. “Touching who?_ Alfred _?”_

_“Yeah, him,” Hong Kong spat out._

_“Fuck, Kha Loung, all we did was press our knees together_. _”_

_“Come on, Kha Loung. Everyone was stressed,” Taiwan said at the same time._

_Hong Kong tugged at his hair, his face looking torn. “But you_ —”

_They made eye contact._

_Hong Kong looked like he was going to vomit. “You don’t have a crush on him, right?”_

_South Korea burst out laughing; then stopped when he saw Hong Kong’s expression. “Shit, no, I don’t have a crush on him. Why would you think that?_ ”

_“We’ve been apart for a week, so I—I thought you changed your mind.”_

_South Korea walked over and pulled him into a hug, causing Hong Kong to let out a shudder and grip him back._

_“I love you,” South Korea murmured, everything feeling right in the world during that moment._

_Hong Kong started crying. Taiwan smiled._

South Korea fidgets, causing Hong Kong to clench his arm. Today had been weirdly…fun. Besides witnessing that…breakup between Romano and Spain, he, Hong Kong, and Taiwan all had a good time.

He sighs. Shit, just being with the two of them, having that physical contact.

It’s so nice.

He tries to relish in that feeling and not think about what’s to come. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _03_ _일_

South Korea feels a weird sense of déjà vu. Soldiers are yelling at him and Japan, he feels like shit.

It’s just like training a month ago.

The only thing different is that now there’s an end goal.

They’re going to rescue Prussia, but in order to do that, they have to go against the only thing Halim wanted and capture his niece. They have to ruin the lives of other Nations.

It sucks. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _04_ _일_  

“Has Spain talked to anyone yet?” South Korea asks.

America shrugs. His eyes are sunken in. “I wouldn’t know.”

“But you hang out with France.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t exactly seen him today or yesterday since I’ve been rotting in hell with Ivan and Yao.”

Japan walks over, carrying three water bottles. They’re on lunch break, outside in a courtyard, and everyone else should be joining them soon.

South Korea frowns. “Where did Ivan and Yao go, by the way?”

America shrugs, taking a bottle from Japan and opening it.

“How are Mei and Kha Loung doing?” Japan asks South Korea, taking a seat next to America. “With their training, that is.”

“There’s flashcards scattered across our apartment since they have to memorize, like, the faces of sixty plus people.”

“Ah.”

America squeezes his eyes shut. “I’d rather be doing that, to be honest.”

Japan touches his arm. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _05_ _일_  

“Antonio, just talk to me.”

“Fuck off, Francis.”

South Korea is standing frozen around the corner.

“Why are you even mad at me?! What the hell did I do!?”

Spain doesn’t respond.

“Are we going to keep this up!? Because we need to cooperate with each other if we’re going to rescue Gilbert!”

Spain stutters. “I—I know. I know, okay? But everything is just so confusing right now, and I—I just want to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” France whispers.

“It doesn’t matter; no one wants me around anyway,” Spain chokes.

“I want you around.”

“You’re lying.” Spain’s voice breaks. “Everything is a lie. How can I trust anything after—after Lovi—”

“Antonio.”

South Korea hears France pull him into a hug.

“We’re going to rescue Gilbert,” France murmurs, his voice choked up.

Spain starts sobbing. “But then what? Then he’s going to _die_.” 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _06_ _일_  

It’s late at night, and Taiwan is having a mental breakdown.

“I can’t do this. K-Kha Loung, I can’t.”

He’s holding her. “It’s going to be okay.” He doesn’t sound too confident, though.

Taiwan shakes her head. “I can’t walk through a compound after we _destroy_ Gaza City and then identify dead bodies. I can’t.”

“Mei,” South Korea pathetically says. Tears are streaming down her face.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she moans. “I don’t want to capture these female Nations. I don’t want to take Halim’s _real-life_ niece away from him, but I—I went on that road trip. I went on that _stupid road trip_.”

“It was worth it,” South Korea murmurs.

Taiwan lets out another sob.

“Do you want to throw stuff?” Hong Kong whispers after she calms down.

“Y-Yeah.”

South Korea and Hong Kong gather all of the flashcards together.

They then throw them and scream. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _07_ _일_

South Korea has no idea what to do.

China is a mess. “Why didn’t he tell me? What did he think I would—”

“Yao.”

“ _He collapsed_ because they keep giving him healing blockers so that he won’t pick a fucking tracking device out of his neck!”

“They’ll have no reason to continue this after Kazimir is taken care of,” Japan whispers.

“Really; because after the road trip, Alfred’s life sure wasn’t great!”

“Yao, you’re getting hysterical,” Taiwan says, her voice small. Hong Kong is next to her, looking uneasy.

They’re all in China’s bedroom. Russia is currently in some medical ward while the rest of the Nations are still at training.

Japan touches China’s shoulder. He’s shaking.

“I just want him to be safe,” he moans. “Is that so much to ask for?”

“One day he will be,” Japan whispers. “It happened with Alfred.”

“And then Alfred was tortured just two months ago!”

Japan closes his eyes. China starts sobbing. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _08_ _일_  

It’s 1 AM.

South Korea, Hong Kong, and Taiwan are still shaken over China’s break down. They’re in their bedroom, sitting on their beds in silence, each avoiding sleep.

South Korea is exhausted. His muscles ache, he’s mentally fatigued.

He wants to go home.

“Can I talk to you outside?” Hong Kong mumbles, poking his back.

South Korea blinks, glancing at Taiwan. She’s absorbed in whatever she’s doing on the computer. “Sure.”

They stand up and wander out of the house, eventually finding themselves under the big oak tree.

“What do you want to talk about?” South Korea asks.

Hong Kong fidgets. “I hate seeing Yao cry.”

“Yeah…”

“God, it just makes everything—if he’s this upset, then everything is so fucking _shitty_.”

He kicks the tree. South Korea isn’t sure what to say. “

“Nothing is going to happen to you because of me, right?” Hong Kong chokes out.

South Korea’s eyes start to sting. “I could say the same about you.”

They stare at each other; then embrace.

Hong Kong leans their foreheads together. “I don’t want to do this.”

“But we have to,” South Korea mumbles. “Prussia needs us.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.”

Hong Kong looks away; then starts blinking rapidly. “I never made up with him.”

“Kha Loun…”

“And he was right. But he switched the topic. But I just wanted to know more about families, but—”

South Korea kisses him.

Hong Kong immediately kisses him back. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _09_ _일_

They take a plane to Syria. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _10_ _일_

Special drugs are prepared for America, China, and Russia to take. Everyone is given tracking devices. They’re told if they remove them, there’ll be consequences.

They review the plan again.

Gaza will be destroyed by bombs in the middle of a night, bombs from American, Russian, Chinese, French, and British drones. Media diversions. No one can go against the UNSC, the old Allied Countries.

No one.

Then, once there’s enough destruction, they, the Nations, move in. Take a helicopter over. It shouldn’t be longer than 30 minutes. They do their jobs. They kill everyone there and bring back the other Nations, rescue Prussia.

Then it’s over.

Then they’re free.

Then they’ve tied up all the repercussions of ‘the plan.’

And then this stupid chapter in their lives can finally be over. 

* * *

 

 _2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _11_ _일_

Drones launch at 23:00.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [art commissioned not intended for /exact scene but it works] (artist: me-za-me-ro.tumblr.com)


	31. No.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited yet

(۲۰۱۵/۰۶/۱۱)

 _11 June 2015_  

Despite everything, Juhaina’s in a good mood.

Dalia is part of the reason why.

“If Ema becomes the new leader, then everything will work out,” she reassures. “Maybe she’ll even be better than Kazimir! I mean, she already listens to reason more than him.”

Juhaina fidgets. “I guess.”

“Juhaina, your uncle is going to be fine.”

They keep walking.

“I don’t trust Prussia, though,” Juhaina whispers. “Like, Ilse is fine, but him…”

Dalia frowns. “Understandable. I don’t really trust him either, but we have to remain optimistic.”

“Well, you’re always one for optimism.”

Dalia grins. Juhaina rolls her eyes.

They get closer to their bedroom.

_Dalia is right, though. We need to stay optimistic._

_Uncle seemed calm today. Ilse was a bit on edge, and Prussia more or less just sulked the entire time, but…_

_It doesn’t matter because Kazimir is leaving and taking Robert with him._

_This is good. Kazimir was unhinged. Ema, I trust her more. This’ll work out. It has to._

They turn the corner, and Juhaina’s thoughts wander when she sees something red.

_Prussia stared, his strange eyes making her feel uneasy. “They’ll come looking for me, you know.”_

_Her uncle and Ilse were asleep. Juhaina didn’t mean to visit in the middle of the night, but she had a nightmare and about them._

_She fidgeted. She told Dalia to keep watch in the hallway, but now she was regretting that decision._

_Prussia stared at the wall. “Everyone here is acting so confident, but they’ll come.”_

_“You don’t know that,” Juhaina forced out in German._

_He gave a sad smile. “But I do.”_

_“…”_

_“Look, I almost wish they wouldn’t, kid. You’re not bad. You just…got caught up in this mess.” He stared at the floor. “Like me. Like all of us.”_

_Juhaina’s head was spinning._

_“But I guess you can’t save everyone,” Prussia muttered. “Even though I’ve tried.”_

_“You could—if you just cooperated,” Juhaina found herself blurting out, “then we could work together to make sure they wouldn’t find us.”_

_“I can’t do that.” Prussia stared at his thumb. “I can’t stomach the idea of following Kazimir’s orders.”_

_“But he’s leaving.”_

_Prussia looked up._

_“Please,” Juhaina nearly begged. “Please cooperate. Help us, I don’t know, help us stay hidden! I can’t go back to being tortured. Please.”_

_“My cooperation isn’t going to stop the others from looking for this place.”_

_Juhaina felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes._

_Prussia shifted; then winced and gestured towards her uncle and Ilse. “You’re going to wake them up.”_

Juhaina left after that.

Thinking of the memory, she feels anxiety building up in her throat.

_No one knows where we are, though. We’re safe._

She forces herself to take a deep breath.

_Fine, if you won’t cooperate, Prussia, then Ema will just get rid of you. And with you gone, we won’t have to worry as much._

She takes another deep breath just as she and Dalia arrive back at their bedroom. It’s almost 11 PM, so Juhaina is feeling pretty tired.

Too bad she can’t just lie down, though.

“Why are you three in here?” Dalia asks, holding the door open.

Kazakhstan is crouched in the corner, reading a book, Kyrgyzstan is hanging half-off the bed, and Mongolia is fiddling with a laptop.

Juhaina glances at Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan, feeling wary. The two really haven’t worked out their issues yet, and that’s something she doesn’t feel like dealing with tonight.

Mongolia doesn’t look up from her laptop. “Your room’s more comfortable.”

Juhaina frowns. “It’s a lot tinier than the one you three share, though.”

“Yeah, but you’re not next to the boiler room,” Kyrgyzstan mutters.

“How was the visit with your uncle?” Kazakhstan asks at the same time, seeming genuine.

Juhaina smiles. “Good.”

“Did you tell them about Kazimir leaving?”

Juhaina bites her lip. “Not yet,” Dalia says for her. “We think it’s…best to let them find out on their own.”

_She doesn’t know I let it slip to Prussia._

_I wonder if he’s told them._

“They both like the Prussian Nation Avatar,” Juhaina mumbles, trying to silence her own thoughts. Dalia shuts the door. “And we all know what’s happening to him once Kazimir leaves with Robert, so that’s why we haven’t said anything.”

“Ah,” Kazakhstan says.

Kyrgyzstan sits up. “You know, I tried talking to him once.”

Mongolia peers over the lid of her laptop, squinting. “Prussia? When?”

“Why do you care?”

“It was when we were on watch duty,” Kazakhstan interjects. “He didn’t say much. Ilse and Halim were polite, though.”

Juhaina sits on the bed.

_What would you guys think of me having a full conversation with him?_

Kyrgyzstan half-heartedly kicks her, and Juhaina retaliates, knocking her to the floor.

“Ow,” Kyrgyzstan says dramatically.

Dalia snorts, sitting next to Juhaina. “That’s what you get.”

Kazakhstan looks sheepish. “If you really want us to leave, we can.”

“Don’t make decisions for me,” Mongolia mutters.

“Our room is moist,” Kyrgyzstan adds on. “I don’t want to go back.”

Juhaina leans into Dalia’s side, who takes her hand and rubs circles into its palm. Juhaina opens her mouth to say something, argue how she’s tired, maybe joke around.

But her vision cuts out. 

* * *

 

(11 июнь 2015 года)

 _11 June 2015_  

Kazimir’s fingers graze over Robert’s spine. “I purchased the house. Preparations are being made, so we will definitely go in a week.”

Robert’s wearing a scowl, but his voice is breathy. “So we’re really just going to leave everyone?”

Kazimir doesn’t want to have this argument again. “There’s a plan for succession.”

“But Ilse—”

Kazimir leans in, and Robert’s sentence dies out.

They’re both sitting on the bed. Robert is in his pajamas, but Kazimir is still normally dressed, just having finished a meeting. His wheelchair is parked next to the bed, forgotten about.

“Do you really care about her that much?” Kazimir murmurs.

“…”

“Robert?”

He’s staring at Kazimir’s lips. “I…”

Kazimir pulls away, taking his hand off of Robert’s back in the process, and he doesn’t miss how Robert frowns, how he seems to chase after his touch.

Kazimir feels a surge of giddiness run through him. He’s like a teenager with a crush.

_It’s pathetic._

_No. He wants this. It’s not just me._

_Frank never felt this way, but you…_

A smile ghosts its way onto Kazimir’s lips. Robert’s eyebrows are pinched, but—

He leans in.

When he arrived almost three weeks ago, Kazimir was unsure about everything, about them. Robert seemed reluctant or scared or even disgusted to do anything intimate.

Kazimir kept hoping, though. He kept hoping because that first night, Robert kissed him back, which only made Kazimir’s emotions get worse.

He started solidifying plans to get to Kazakhstan. That was his first step to building their relationship. Promising a new life together was the next, all the while trying to push Robert’s limits by sleeping in the same bed, and—

Kissing.

Kazimir thought—he thought they were on the same page after a number of days. But after he absentmindedly told Robert that he loves him, everything crumbled. Robert became even more emotionally distant in the days following, even after reciprocating Kazimir's kiss, and looked almost physically pained whenever they were both in the same room.

Kazimir was almost ready to give up, but then something changed four days after the “I love you” incident. Kazimir had climbed into bed, careful not to touch Robert; he hadn’t touched him since that day. After getting comfortable, he could feel Robert fidgeting and fidgeting, forcing himself to stay still.

And then Robert rolled over and kissed him without any warning, kissed him with such _need_ that Kazimir’s face feels hot just thinking of it.

_He isn’t disgusted by me._

_He isn’t…_

Robert gently presses their foreheads together, and Kazimir’s vision starts blurring. He feels emotionally overwhelmed.

_All that shit I went through as a Nation Advisor. The revenge plan._

_It was all worth it to be with you._

_Getting shot by Russia._

_Frank._

_It was all worth it because you’re here and I’m here._

“Do you want this?” he asks, the words coming out in Polish.

Robert frowns. “What did you say?”

“Do you want this?” Kazimir repeats in English, his voice coming out more choked than he intended.

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“You…you look like you want to leave sometimes,” Kazimir breathes. “That is why.”

Robert seems distressed. Kazimir opens his mouth, but—

Robert kisses him.

It’s not passion filled or sex-charged, they’re too old for that, but it’s enough to make Kazimir feel weak, feel like crying.

_Someone finally loves me._

_Someone finally wants to stay with me._

_Frank did, but not like this. Never like this._

_Robert._

The bedroom door is thrust open.

They abruptly break away from each other. Robert is cursing. Kazimir’s heart is pounding.

_Did I forget to latch it?_

“What?” he snaps in Russian. He then freezes.

Palestine is standing at the doorway. Light from the hallway is flooding into the room, illuminating her.

Her eyes are bright red.

Kazimir’s suddenly frightened, irrationally frightened. All he can see is Russia and China towering over him.

His gun is on the nightstand, but it’s too far away to reach in one motion.

_Fuck; fuck._

_Act strong. You’re in charge._

Palestine blurts out something in Arabic.

Kazimir’s heart is beating erratically. “We can’t understand that language,” he snaps in Russian, trying to maintain a position of power.

“She said she saw something,” a new voice rambles in his language, shoving Palestine aside. It’s Kazakhstan.

Kazimir trusts her.

_Calm down. We’re going to be okay._

He sees Israel, Mongolia, and Kyrgyzstan run up behind them. All are out of breath.

“What’s going on?” Robert hisses, his voice breaking.

Kazimir sits up straight. “What did she see?” he asks in English.

Palestine is shaking. “Drones. Planes launching.”

Israel seems frightened. “Ssh, Juhaina, it’s okay.”

“BUT THEY’RE COMING TO KILL US! THEY’RE COMING TO DESTROY PALESTINE!”

“What are you talking about?” Kazimir demands.

“She—She saw Russian, American, British, French, and Chinese drones launching. She says they’re coming here to destroy everything,” Kazakhstan gets out.

Kazimir’s ears start ringing. “What?”

“THEY’RE COMING TO KILL US!” Palestine screeches.

Kazimir looks at his hand and sees it shaking.

Dread slowly fills him as he fully realizes the meaning of that sentence.

_No._

_No. No. No._

_Someone leaked information. Someone must have._

Kazimir glances at Robert. He seems frozen, stiff, pale.

_I need to protect him. I need to find a way to protect us._

_He’s scared. I’ll keep him safe. I have to._

Kazimir forces himself to react. “Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie?” Palestine chokes out. She’s shaking and seems terrified.

Kazimir knows she’s not making this up.

_Shit._

He jerks himself to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to gather everyone, and we’ll all meet in the strategy room,” he rambles in Russian. “We’ll make a plan. I need you—”

“I’m not doing anything unless the safety of my uncle is guaranteed.”

“Fine. He, the Ilse woman, even the fucking Nation Avatar—I’ll have them go to the meeting room as well, okay? Start gathering people. Tell them to be there in five minutes. Go.”

The Nation Avatars bolt. Robert is still frozen.

Kazimir maneuvers himself into his wheelchair, functioning solely off of adrenaline. “Get dressed. I am going to make announcement. We will all gather in strategy room.”

“…”

“Maybe the Nation Avatar is exaggerating things. We must hope that. But do not worry; we can get through this. There are escape tunnels. And surely they will not destroy the entirety of Gaza City. They would not do that. So we still have the opportunity to get away.” Kazimir realizes he’s rambling. Robert still isn’t reacting. “I am going to make an intercom announcement.”

“Maybe she’s lying,” Robert whispers.

“We have to take this seriously.”

He doesn’t respond.

Kazimir glances at him; then forces his motorized chair out the door. 

* * *

 

(۲۰۱۵/۰۶/۱۱) 

This is the first time everyone at this underground base has been in the same room.

Juhaina is shaking. She doesn’t know if what she saw was a fluke. It was so sudden.

She chokes back a sob.

She’s terrified, and it’s only been about seven minutes. Stragglers are filing in, almost everyone side-eyeing her in some way. The atmosphere is tense. It’s so tense.

Kazimir is angrily clicking on his laptop, Juhaina next to him. They’re both on a tiny stage, seated at a table, rows of chairs facing them. The room isn’t large, and Juhaina feels claustrophobic.

Dalia, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, and Kyrgyzstan are off to the side, guarding her uncle, Ilse, and Prussia. Juhaina sneaks a glance, noticing the light reflecting off of Dalia’s locket. She then sees her uncle give a broken smile.

“Kazimir, we need to start,” Ema spits in Russian, walking over.

“I’m waiting for everyone to get here.”

“No, you’re waiting for Robert. Screw the stragglers, just start. We—We don’t have much time if what the Nation Avatar says is true.”

Kazimir’s expression breaks. He turns on a microphone, and Juhaina feels anxiety building up in her throat. She desperately tries to swallow it.

Kazimir doesn’t even give an introduction. “Around 11 PM the Palestinian Nation Avatar claimed she saw a—”

“In English!” someone yells.

“We are going to die,” Kazimir hisses in that language. “Unless we escape from here. The Nation here saw—” Kazimir seems to struggle for words. “Vision. Nations see visions before attacks happen. She saw drones. They are coming for Palestine. This means someone must have leaked information on where we are. That is not the main problem, though. The main problem is that we need plan for escape. I have pulled up a layout of the base on this laptop. Let me hook it up to projector. In the meantime, Palestine, do you see anything?”

Everyone is looking at her.

Juhaina feels a bead of sweat roll down her back. She swallows, but it feels like something is caught in her throat.

“No.”

“That doesn’t help us,” Ema mutters.

Juhaina wants to cry. “I think the drones were launching from Syria. But I—I don’t know how long it would take for them to get here.”

“How do we know she isn’t lying?” someone yells.

People are angry. People are scared. The atmosphere becomes chaotic as Kazimir attempts to get the projector working.

“They wouldn’t just destroy Gaza city!”

“How can we trust a Nation?!”

“I thought the nuke bluff would prevent something like this from happening!”

The back door opens.

Robert hobbles in. He’s mostly unnoticed as people continue to scream at each other, but Juhaina sees him. She sees him and watches as he approaches them.

His one shirtsleeve is soaked with blood.

Juhaina makes a noise, and Kazimir looks up, his eyes immediately drawn to Robert’s arm as he hobbles onto the stage. “What did you do?”

Robert points a gun at him.

Almost instantaneously, the room becomes silent until those with their own guns aim them at him.

“DON’T SHOOT!” Kazimir practically screeches in Russian. He switches to broken English. “Robert, drop gun. Please. Talk to me. I know you scared. I am too. It is okay. We can get through this.”

“I did this.”

“What are you—”

“I leaked the information.”

Kazimir’s expression twists. “What?”

Robert suddenly seems unhinged. “I LEAKED THE FUCKING INFORMATION.”

“Robert.”

“You should have died back in Siberia, and I should have died with my suicide attempt, but no, both of us are still alive! Pointlessly alive!”

“I—”

“This entire thing is useless! What we did in Geneva, rescuing the Nations, both _useless_! You said it was for ‘revenge,’ but revenge for what?! Against the Nation system?! What does that even mean?!”

“Please.”

“It wasn’t the Nation system that killed Frank, you did! You—you ran your mouth and threatened Russia and China, so Russia shot you. And because of that, you never called. You never called, so Frank committed suicide and left me crying pathetically on our driveway!”

“Ro—”

“But you couldn’t just leave it at that. No, you had to go and fuck up my life even further. I could—I could function without you, but then you leeched your way back into my life and turned me into this _unrecognizable_ person!”

Kazimir looks like he’s been slapped. Someone cocks their gun.

“DON’T SHOOT HIM,” Kazimir screeches.

“This needs to be over. It’s done. We’ve run our course. This plan, the revenge, they’ve run their course,” Robert rambles. His hand is shaking. His one shirtsleeve is becoming redder.

“But it _is_ over for the two of us,” Kazimir chokes out. “We just need to escape, and then it can be over. We can be together!”

“I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU!”

Kazimir is near tears. “I know you are scared, but it is—”

“I’M NOT SCARED! I CAUSED THIS! I’M THE REASON THE CITY IS ABOUT TO BE DESTROYED.”

“Please, Robert, let me help you. Your arm. Robert.”

“STOP SAYING MY NAME!”

“Please.”

Guns are aimed at Robert’s head.

Kazimir looks hysterical. “DON’T YOU DARE!”

Robert shoots him in the chest.

The loud gunshot is followed by a period of silence, so silent Juhaina can hear her ears ringing. Next to her, she watches as Kazimir’s eyes widen, watches as his pale blue shirt slowly turns red.

The world is spinning. She can’t breathe. She’s overwhelmed. Presences are expanding.

Kazimir blinks. “W-Why?”

Robert shoots him again, and this time,

the life drains from his eyes.

It’s still.

No one seems to move or breathe.

_He’s dead._

_Kazimir is actually dead._

Robert brings the gun up to his forehead.

Ilse reacts first. “WAIT!”

Robert smiles.

He then shoots himself in the head. 

* * *

 

 _11̼̗̞͉̻̪̫ ̟̖̬̝̯͖̹͡J̥̲̙̣u̜n̤̥͍̰̰̗̩i̷͍ ̵̥̦͚̫̣̱20̖1̣̗̜̙̰̩5͏̫̼̗͈̞̼_  

Prussia’s vision is swimming.

He watches as Palestine bolts from the stage, hyperventilating, and stares at Robert’s lifeless body, at Kazimir’s corpse.

Ema is in hysterics, clutching him. Palestine runs over to Halim, jumping into his arms. Israel tries to comfort her, but she’s shaking, and Palestine is crying, and Ilse is frozen.

“He looked at me and smiled,” she whispers.

Halim looks at her. Juhaina is still clutching his chest. “Ilse.”

“My dad also did that before he committed suicide.”

Prussia stares at his chained up hands until they blur away.

_Why?_

A wave of pain runs through him, causing his thumb to twitch. He feels delusional.

Croatia screams something in English. Prussia can’t understand, but people are yelling back, pointing weapons. There are a group of Nations behind her.

Others, meanwhile, have gathered around Kazimir. They’re in hysterics. They’ve kicked Robert’s body to the side.

 _“You should dissolve,”_ Bavaria whispers into his ear.

Prussia squeezes his eyes shut.

_If I just wait at this compound, just keep my ass right here, then I’ll be rescued._

_But at what cost?_

_These Nations will be captured if I don’t do anything._

_Juhaina, Halim’s niece, will be captured and experimented on again if I don’t do anything._

Prussia opens his eyes and sees Halim holding onto her for dear life, barely holding back tears, reminding Prussia of the warmth he vaguely remembers from his own parents.

_She and the other Nations should’ve gone on the road trip with us._

He staggers to his feet.

Ilse jerks. “What are you doing?”

“Those Nations, what are they screaming about over there?” Prussia asks as calm as he can.

“They want to escape,” Israel blurts out in German.

_Escaping is dangerous. It’s safer to stay here if they’re going to bomb the city._

_But at the same time, staying here means we’ll get trapped._

Prussia studies the other group of Nations.

_It’s just their group who wants to leave, though, so they can take risks. Maybe they could get a decent amount of distance from here before the bombing starts too and take cover elsewhere._

_I would need to go with them. They’ll without a doubt be tracked eventually, but if I’m with them, I could convince whoever finds us to let them go._

Juhaina is crying. Halim looks so broken.

_I don’t have to do this._

_Yet, I have somehow earned the reputation of ‘breaking the rules!’ and ‘saving the day!’, so._

_This is for you, Halim._

Prussia collects himself. “I’m going to help them. Can you take off my handcuffs?”

Tears are streaming down Ilse’s face. “Why?”

“You and Halim need to stay here. You’ll die if you leave.”

“Wait.”

Kazakhstan fumbles and unlocks the chains binding his wrists. He rubs them once they’re free.

Ilse is nearly hysterical. “Gilbert.”

“What do you recommend doing?” Kazakhstan desperately asks.

Prussia feels weirdly calm. He looks at the other group of Nations, then back at them, smiling. His thumb twitches. “I don’t know. I think staying here is the safer option, but I don’t want to see any of you be captured by the Russians or Americans again. Juhaina, I know you want to stay with your uncle, so _…_ ”

“I _—_ I do.”

“Then you’re going to have to kill yourself. Nation’s can’t sense each other’s presences when they’re dead. He could hide your body, and then admits all the chaos, you could somehow escape together.”

“If you’re staying, I’m staying,” Israel blurts out.

Prussia turns around, noticing how frozen Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, and Kazakhstan appear. “Well, good luck.”

He starts running over to the other Nations, all who are scrambling out of the room.

“Wait!” Ilse screeches.

Prussia twists his head. He gives a genuine smile. “Let’s finish that bucket list when we both get back to Germany.”

“GILBERT!”

Something explodes outside, and Prussia sprints away just as Juhaina starts screeching. 

* * *

 

(̤̗͕̜͞ͅ۲̴̺̹۰۱̹͔۵҉͇̺̗/̩̙̤̕۰͕̘̠̜̤۶̶͙͉͚̫/̯̤۱۱͍)͈̩̘͎͕

 

She’s in pain.

She’s never been in this much pain before.

“There’s a boiler room!” she thinks she hears Kyrgyzstan scream. “We can kill ourselves and hide there with you two!”

She can’t focus. She can see buildings getting destroyed and people dying.

She’s sobbing.

“It’s okay, Baby,” her uncle murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“We’re going to get through this,” Dalia whispers. She catches a glimpse of her locket. Dalia’s voice breaks. “We have to.”

“I don’t want to go back to the Americans,” she chokes out.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to let them take you this time,” her uncle murmurs. “I’m going to stay with you until I die.”

“B-But then you won’t be able to go back home.”

Her uncle looks at Ilse and grabs her hand. “That doesn’t matter.”

He then shoots Juhaina in the head.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [many thanks to rynisyou.tumblr.com]
> 
> :)
> 
> (Things happened--my laptop broke, i got an anxiety attack. so. basically i wrote this to de-stress which is why it’s out so quickly)
> 
> (i have to reiterate this. my laptop broke. during finals week. like???. the one i typed this chapter on is so slow shoot me)


	32. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited yet

[23:07] 

“Making contact.”

“Approaching target.”

“Fire.”

“Wave two is preparing.”

South Korea’s vision is blurry.

He’s fairly certain he’s on the brink of a panic attack too, but there are more important things to worry about. Because right now, he and the other Nations are in the strategy room at the Russian-Syrian base.

They’re awaiting orders, awaiting orders and listening to the ongoing situation.

“Incoming intelligence from the Americans. Israel is trying to contact the US president.”

“Is he ignoring them?”

“Yes.”

“Egypt also keeps requesting information.”

South Korea squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s already half-dressed in the gear he’ll need, wearing a standard South Korean military uniform complete with a bulletproof vest underneath. Later, he’ll be receiving a helmet with a gas mask attached, which also has a GoPro built into it. This way, the people back at base can get a live feed of what they’re doing.

The gas masks have voice amplifiers, so they’ll be able to talk to each other. Mostly, though, they’ll be relying on military hand signals and sign language.

South Korea fidgets. In addition to all that gear, he’ll also be getting two assault rifles, grenades, tear gas.

Hong Kong’s leg bumps against his, and South Korea’s eyes snap open.

All of them are sitting in the back of the room on shitty foldout chairs. South Korea jerks his head to look at Hong Kong, but he fiddles with his shirtsleeve and avoids eye contact.

South Korea swallows.

“The second wave is arriving,” someone says in English.

He doesn’t want to do this.

“Egypt is sending out another distress call,” someone says in Russian.

He’s terrified.

“The second wave is about to make contact,” someone says in Chinese.

All he wanted to do was help out with a road trip.

 

* * *

 

[23:27] 

“The UN peace corps are preparing for their immediate dispatch at three hundred hours.”

“Thanks for the update.”

The tracking device in South Korea’s arm is irritating him. 

* * *

 

[23:36] 

“Twitter and Facebook are still down worldwide, plus Google and any Google associates are experiencing problems. There have been media leaks, but people are too confused to pull together any coherent story.”

“Thanks for the update.”

_Yeah, thanks for the update!_

_Deep breath. Think of the building layout. Try to visualize it. You're leaving soon. You’ve been memorizing it for a week._

_You know it._

_Ground level is the shop_. _There’s an entrance in the back that leads to the basement. There are other entry and exit ways, but they’ll be blocked after the bombings. They’re being blocked right now_.

_There’s a long tunnel. That’s what we’ll encounter first, and that’ll lead us to the main room. From there, different hallways branch off. We’ll be taking separate ones. Alfred, Ivan, and Yao will try to sense the presences of the other Nations. They’ll go after them._

South Korea attempts to take another a deep breath. He can’t. 

* * *

 

[23:41]

His gas mask, helmet with the GoPro, assault rifles, belt of grenades, tear gas, backpack of ammo, communication device—he’s wearing all of them.

He’s on a helicopter. Sitting next to him is Japan and Hong Kong. Taiwan is on Hong Kong’s other side. They’re grouped together by their squads.

America, Russia, and China, they appear off. They’ve been given an injection of—of something. South Korea isn’t sure what.

But he knows it’s the shit that made America and Russia try to kill each other before.

He squirms. The most focused out of the group is Spain. He’s the only one who looks raring to go. Even France doesn’t seem as driven as him.

South Korea chews his lip.

 _This is almost over. We’ll just_ _rescue Prussia. Capture the other Nations. Kill Kazimir._

_And then things can go back to normal._

_Yeah…_

South Korea desperately tries not to think about Halim’s niece. 

* * *

 

[23:52] 

The helicopter is in the air, but he’s afraid to look out the window and see the damage.

So he doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

[00:03]

“We’re landing.”

 _No_.

* * *

  
 

[00:06] 

The area surrounding them is utterly destroyed.

South Korea’s heart is in his throat. His hands are shaking too.

Russia gives them the signal to move forward.

In total, there are ten non-Nations with the group, not counting the pilots. Five are remaining back at the helicopters to assist with the bodies that’ll be brought back; three are with Taiwan, Hong Kong, South Korea, and Japan; and the remaining two will be helping France, Canada, England, and Spain.

 _My group is identifying the human bodies and bringing nineteen of them back to the helicopter. Alfred, Ivan, and Yao_ , _they’re tracking down the Nations. And France, Spain, England, and Canada are taking those twenty-three Nations back to the helicopter._

_All the while finding Prussia._

South Korea’s vision is blurry.

They’ve been assigned different languages to speak in correspondence to who’s giving them orders. South Korea’s group has to speak Mandarin, America’s is speaking Russian, and the others are speaking English.

“Major bombing will continue on the south side of the city in three minutes,” someone says into the earpiece he’s wearing. “Don’t be alarmed.”

South Korea shakes. The area around them is a wasteland.

 _The people here_ —

_No. Don’t think about it._

The shop they have to enter is partially intact. This was done on purpose for easy access.

An explosion.

South Korea tries not to get alarmed but fails.

The shop has a collapsed wall, so they enter through there. Hong Kong is next to South Korea, he and Taiwan are in the middle of him and Japan, and out of desperation, South Korea tries sensing for Prussia’s presence.

Nothing.

Cautiously, they approach the entrance to the basement and see a door. America motions for everyone to back up. South Korea does so, feeling his heartbeat get erratic as there’s another explosion in the distance.

 _“You as Yong-Soo, me as Alfred_. _”_

_“I really like you.”_

_“I think I’m a lesbian.”_

_“You two are depressed.”_

_“And don’t forget your friends. You know that Lien and Anantachai both value your friendship. And all of us here, we want you happy.”_

_“You included?”_

_Japan rolled his eyes. “Mayb_ — _”_

America busts down the door.

Dazed, South Korea starts walking as Japan pushes him forward.

_He was getting frustrated. “Then I don’t know what you want.”_

_Prussia looked dejected. “I don’t either.”_

_“…”_

_“It really would be easier if I just died right now.”_

_“H-Hey, don’t say that.”_

_“I’m just prolonging this. I’m just making everyone else more_ miserable. _”_

They head down the hallway. 

* * *

 

[̗͎̝̳͓̞͔͌̀ͪͭ0̞̙̭̳̖̱͎͔͋ͬ͒͌̎̅̂0̫̮͓̦͚̰̰̼͎̣͕͉̣͉̎̃͂̑̃̽̿ͨ̇̂ͬ͗̀̐:̫̘̥̗̞̬̤̦͚̥̩́̃̃̇̏͊̔͊ͦ͐ͬ̾ͨͪ̍0͇͎̟̦̟͖̗̜͉̦̩̣̳̙̫̋̋̆̅̑͛̓̏ͬͅ9͎͈͙͎̫͔̩͈̟͇̠̠̹̫̘ͫͯ̐̾̈̑ͭ͋̿͐ͅ]͉͇̖̫̗̭̫̝̠͍͔̲̳̩̇ͬ͂͋͌̏ͥ̏ͣ̃̂̒ͮͤͅͅ

 

“I can sense them,” Croatia hisses to Prussia like he’ll be able to do something about it.

They’re cornered at the far eastern edge of the compound. The tunnel they wanted to take collapsed before they could get anywhere, so now they’re trapped. Trapped and hiding in a dark storage closet full of random medical supplies.

Before they sensed the other Nations, their plan was to try and escape through the main entrance as soon as the bombing died down, but…

They can’t exactly do that anymore.

“I don’t know the correct dosage for this,” Turkmenistan says through clenched teeth. They’re all speaking German so Prussia can understand.

“Just wing it,” Croatia spits, nearly hyperventilating. “All of you, just wing it. We can’t let the other Nations sense our presences.”

Prussia stares at the syringe and vial of clear liquid.

_Halim flinches. “I—I don’t know, entirely. You don’t have to believe me,” he whispers. “But please, just, if you see my niece—if you fight her, please put her out of her misery. Put them all out of their misery. Don’t let them be taken again. I guess that’s all I want._

Prussia’s vision swims.

_I know, Halim. Juhaina will be safe; don’t worry. I’ll try to find a way to make that happen. I’ll—_

For a second Prussia swears he sees Saxony.

He backs up against the wall. He knows Croatia is shooting him a look.

_Focus. You need to focus. Right now you’re in a position where these Nations are going to be captured again._

That’s the truth if they stay here, and Prussia knows that.

His thumb twitches.

_“The Nations then abruptly began chanting about how they hated the Roman Empire. People started screaming at them. They only protested louder. It was surreal at first and then turned into something out of a nightmare._

_“They…Suddenly, they all just started dissolving._

_“I’ve killed other Chinese Nations before, so Nation death was nothing new to me. I’ve never seen any willingly give up their life like this, though. And even more terrifying was Rome. He—He started dissolving too. Maybe it’s because they made up what he represented. Maybe it was some other force. But in a span of five minutes, they were all gone. They were just…dust.”_

His shoulder aches.

_“Everything will be okay,” Bavaria said calmly, as if to a toddler. “Just let go. Let yourself dissolve.”_

_Prussia stared at his own trembling hand. “No. I’m not giving up on life like you.”_

_“I’m not giving up; I’m accepting fate. I’m accepting that my life is over.”_

_Prussia felt nauseous._

_“Everyone must die eventually, even us Nations. Haven’t you already lived long enough?”_

And Prussia is just so tired.

 _Maybe I have lived long enough._  

* * *

 

[00:11] 

It’s eerily silent.

Russia is leading everyone, America and China closely flanking, and they’re quickly approaching the main room. Desperately, South Korea tries to sense for anyone’s presences, but he comes up with nothing.

_What if those Nations aren’t here?_

_No. No, there were pictures_.

Russia holds up his hand and motions for everyone to stop. They’re outside the main room, and South Korea can sense people inside.

He forces himself to take a deep breath, trying to ignore Russia’s red eyes, the fact that China and America are preparing some canisters of tear gas.

They chuck them into the room.

Instantly, there’s the sound of coughing and gagging.

Russia open-fires.

Next to him, South Korea can feel Hong Kong and Taiwan flinch. America and China quickly join in on the shooting, and as soon as all three stop firing, France and Spain head into the room, out of sight. Russia and China follow, America going after them.

South Korea grabs Japan’s arm when he starts to move.

They can’t make eye contact; it’s too dark with the masks obscuring their faces.

“Just stay back,” Canada says, his voice coming out weird because of the enhancer. It’s also echoed because of their communicator. “We don’t need that many people in there.”

Japan jerks his arm away from South Korea.

“The Russian Nation Avatar is giving the all clear symbol,” one of the humans then says, and South Korea sucks in some air and cautiously enters the room.

There’s a lot of blood.

“How many bodies are there?” a Chinese voice screeches into his ear.

 _I don’t_ _know!_

“We’re just about to examine them,” Taiwan chokes out.

“There are seven bodies,” Russia answers at the same time in Mandarin.

“Speak in Russian,” one of his superiors hisses, their voice crackling and sounding distorted.

“There. Are. Seven. Bodies,” Russia enunciates in that language, sounding agitated.

“Do you sense any of the other Nations?”

“No.”

“Not yet,” America blurts out at the same time. His voice is choked up.

“Let’s head deeper into the compound,” China says calmly. He keeps talking, but South Korea finds it difficult to understand.

Instead, he walks over to where Hong Kong is jostling a dead body. “A-Anyone important here?”

“Just one, I think,” Taiwan chokes out from where she is.

“Who?”

“His name is David. He was a Swiss security guard.” 

* * *

 

[̞͉͔̘̩̳͖̣̲͚̻͒ͤ̓̔̒̉̈̂̍ͫͮ̈́ͅ0͉̞̟̯̮͈̪̼̰̱̀̊͛́̇ͪͪͮͬͤ͛̔ͪ̾͑0̼̝̞͎͎̞̰̔ͧͦ̊ͬͪ̂͛͐̊̀̅̾͌ͥ:͈̥͇̜̯̍͋̓ͬ́ͯͣ̓ͬ̅̇ͮ̀̓̎1̙̥̜̘̠͖̟̭̞ͩ̀̈̓ͬͫͭ́̑̓̂͋̈́͋̀͛5͍̫̮̪͉̰͌͌ͫ͌̃]̗̳̠͈͍̻͈͇͉̖͔͕̜̬̻ͤ̑͊ͩ

 

They hear what sounds like grenades.

The atmosphere is quickly turning desperate.

 _I could just leave,_ Prussia thinks in a daze. _I could leave these Nations and never look back._

_And what, would I just walk up to Antonio and France with open arms?_

_Aren’t we fighting? Didn’t we have an argument?_

_I don’t even remember…_

_It’s almost been two weeks; does it matter anymore?_

Another explosion.

He grips his head.

For whatever reason, the image of Kazimir looking completely dumbfounded as Robert shot him plays over and over in his mind.

“It’s okay to let go,” Bavaria whispers.

The thought relaxes Prussia.

* * *

 

[00:16] 

“There are some human bodies located in room 2A, near the south end,” a voice screeches into South Korea’s ear.

Dazed, he, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Japan climb back into the tunnel leading to the compound. They just dropped off David, so now they need to find the others.

Right now, China, Russia, and America are currently killing a group of people, and England, Canada, France, and Spain are on the opposite end of the compound, desperately searching.

There’s still no sign of Prussia. No sign of the Nations, or even Halim and Ilse. 

* * *

 

[00:22] 

_We still need twelve bodies. Where the hell are they?_

_Where the hell are the Nations?_

_Where’s Prussia_ _?_  

* * *

 

[00:25]

“Has anyone been into room 3B on the north end?” Japan asks, his voice wavering. “You have to access it through 3A.”

“No one has been there yet,” someone screeches back in Chinese. “Do you sense any presences from where you are?”

Japan glances at the rest of them. They shake their heads. “Negative.”

South Korea swallows, readying his gun, and he and Japan approach the door. They motion everyone else to back up; then place grenades by it and join the others.

The grenades explode.

The doors fall, and they chuck in canisters of tear gas, but—

Nothing.

They all cautiously enter the room and look inside, seeing dead bodies scattered throughout it. It looks like some sort of conference room.

“There’s a bunch of dead bodies on a stage in here,” South Korea chokes out.

“Then can we get a clear view of them?” someone says into his ear.

He nods to no one; then approaches the stage with Japan, as Taiwan and Hong Kong move to examine those on the ground. Getting closer, he sees a guy in a wheelchair, bodies scattered around him, all looking like—

_They committed suicide._

Except for the guy. It appears he was shot in the chest.

South Korea sees someone on the edge of the stage. Their head is shot in, but…even so, South Korea could recognize suit man anywhere.

His vision fades out. He realizes the guy in the wheelchair is Kazimir.

Dead.

_Suit man doesn’t even flinch. “Having my life ruined; nice to see you too. Apparently being seventy-nine doesn’t give me a free pass for this shit.”_

Both of them dead. 

* * *

 

[̮͙̻͙̗̻̟͖͎͍͎̈̎̂͊̿ͥͬͬ̾̊̄̑̔̏̂̌0̝̹̼͖͉͕͎̙͎̳̟͇͙͕̅͛̃͊̄̄ͦͥ̈́ͮͫ̍͆ͨ͋͂̑̎ͮͅ0͈͚̗͚̘͈̯ͦͤ́ͤ͊ͩ̍͌͂̒̃̈͐ͣ͌:͓̟̱̘̩̭̫͍̘̝̟͎̘͚ͭ̋͋́͊ͬ̍̌̆̉2͉̜͔̭͈͖̱̻̗̽ͤ̋̅̓̽ͤͥ̉̚7̗̖̞̱̱͗͐͐̿̓ͭ̇]̦͙̫̦̼͕͔̠̫̭̽̅ͬ̃͗ͥͫ̓̆͆̾̉

 

“I can sense other Nations getting closer,” Uzbekistan chokes out.

“Who?” Prussia asks, his head tight.

Nothing feels real.

“Spain and France.”

_“See, that’s the thing. You couldn’t. You can’t. My death is—it’s inevitable. I’m dying. I’m supposed to be dead. I should have just dissolved when the others—” He broke off. “When Bavaria—I should have—”_

_Spain and France pulled him into an embrace._

“What should we do!?”

_France appeared in the doorway, only relaxing when he saw Prussia on the bed. “How’s your shoulder? The stairs—”_

_Prussia clenched his jaw. “Can we please stop having every conversation centered around it?”_

_France looked hurt. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”_

_“But having every single conversation centered around my shoulder, or my cancer—it’s draining!”_

_Spain put down his phone. “You don’t know what it’s like for us.”_

_“What it’s like for_ you _?”_

Prussia closes his eyes. His body is tingling. 

* * *

 

[00:27] 

“All the human bodies needed to be retrieved are in that room?”

“Yes,” Japan answers.

“Then where the hell are the Nations?!” 

* * *

 

[̼͖̹̙͖͖̯͍̹̱̲̺̦̹̰̰̑̐̾͐̊ͤͯͬ̃͋̓̑ͭͅͅ0̤͔̝͎̣̬͚ͧͦ̑͐ͥ͐͛͐͂́͊0̳̩̳̯͍͈͚̏́̀̚:̺͓̪̭̻̮͙̲̟͔͎̞̪̹̘ͤ̄̑ͫͨ̒̾̃ͭ̇̊̐̾̎̄͂͊͆̚2̬͚͚͔͖͗ͫ̔ͅ8̰̘̬̘͙̙͖̙̣̍̒̒ͦ̋́ͅ]̝̰̞͕̘͍͚̄̂ͧͪ̍̾͋͊

 

“I can’t go back,” Jordan chokes out. “I can’t.”

_Kazimir stood up, gripping the shoulder that Russia shot, and said something to him. Prussia had no idea why, and all he could do is watch when Russia noticed the exchange and screamed at him again._

_More people came into the hallway. All of them had guns, and they started pointing and talking to Russia. Kazimir was shaking even worse now. He spat out blood and yelled something._

_Russia snapped._

_He shot him in the opposite shoulder, and Kazimir screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground. He was crying now. Begging. Prussia saw that he’d urinated._

_Russia opened his mouth, but China said something curtly and started walking away. After giving Kazimir a venomous look, Russia followed, and Prussia had to crane his head to look at the man behind them._

_He was wriggling in pain, screaming._

_Yelling._

_Pleading._

They take over Prussia’s mind.

_It’s not your fault, Kazimir; it’s mine._

_I shouldn’t have rescued Francis._

Another explosion.

_But here we are._

The Nations around him are crying.

 _But_ _I_ —

“It’s okay to dissolve, Prussia,” Bavaria whispers.

 _Yeah. I can fix this._  

* * *

 

[00:28] 

“I heard someone,” Ilse hisses. She and Halim are jammed behind a water cooler, dead bodies of little girls contorted and hidden in the corner, covered and obscured by bed sheets from the bedroom next door.

There’s blood. It smells.

Ilse is terrified.

 _Robert is_ _dead._

She can still see him smiling.

Halim grabs her hand. “You don’t have to stay here with me. If you went back now, nothing would happen to you.”

She closes her eyes. “Halim, I’m not leaving.”

“Even if we die?” he whispers.

Her expression breaks. “Yes.”

They clench onto each other’s hands, waiting, praying.

 _Don’t find us._ _Forget us. Forget we’re even here._

_Please._

Distant gunshots.

 _Oh, Gilbert…_  

* * *

 

[̩͎͔̞̳̯̜̱̺̠̫̝̤ͣ̊̂ͥ̉ͅ0̠̳͎͌̽̀̐̓̚̚0̫̲͕͙͔̄́ͨ̑ͨ̃̏̑̍̆̈̋̆̋͊̍ͨͥ̇:͎̦͈̤̟̳͍̯̼͕͔͔͖̲̳̤̩̤͐ͮ̓̄̒ͅ2̝̲͔̹̒̍̾̂̂ͦ̎̃9͖̪̫͚̟̤̲̥̟̟̒̍ͨ̈̐̇͊ͦ̑͋͒̿͑]̰͖͉̙̤̫̼̩͔̼̲̟̺͕̑̉͒̾͌ͤ

 

“They’re going to find us,” is the sentence that comes out of Prussia’s mouth.

Everyone stares at him in muted horror.

“And you’ll all be captured. Things will return to how they once were.”

“No,” Croatia hisses. Everyone starts making noises of distress.

“But there is a way out of it.”

Silence.

“We have to die.”

“N-Nations can’t die.”

Prussia shakes his head. He then smiles like he’s thinking of an inside joke. “That’s not true.” 

* * *

 

[00:31] 

“There—there are f-four more human bodies left that need to be taken back to the helicopters,” Hong Kong stutters.

“But where are the Nations!?”

“We’re looking for them,” Russia spits. 

* * *

 

[̸̷̰̫̦͍̼̘͇͚̪̝̜͙ͮ̎̐̿ͭ̿̈́ͥͯ͛͊̊͒̓ͦ̊͗̒̓͟͞͝ͅ0̵̗̱̙͔̜̟͓̣̫̬̠͚̞̖͂̎ͨ͋͒ͬ͑ͮ̀̈́̊̈͊ͮ̎͢͟ͅ0̸̡̨̜͍̬̹̫̳̥̖͈̤̰̮̭̊ͧ̓̄̿͊̄͑̃ͬ̌̋̃ͬͨ̎̈͒̎͠͝:͎͇̮̬̫͗͆ͧͦ̇̅̔̌̈͆̌ͩ͒̍̚͜͝2̵ͦ̓͗̓͗ͭ̈́͗̈̃̃͌͏̧̨͓͎̮̦̦̻̜̳̙̯̜͇̣̻9̶̃͗̆ͩͬ͌ͫͧ͑ͯ̐͆҉̭͈͕͎̪̲̭͜͝]̵̢̅̆̂̃̉̓ͧͬ̏ͨ͗ͫ̆̌́̔̽ͥ͏̤̜͎̦̪̬̻̹ͅ

 

Prussia holds up his thumb. “Look.”

It starts to dissolve.

They stare at him in shock, and he watches it disappear. Fade. Turn to dust.

There’s no pain.

He’s not resisting it.

“Good job, Gilbert,” Bavaria whispers.

 _It’s better like this,_ Prussia thinks.

_I would have died of cancer anyway._

He takes a deep breath and watches as the other Nations around him start to turn to dust. Slowly. Cautiously.

The atmosphere is weirdly calm now. All of Prussia’s worries melt away too as he gazes at the dust particles floating in the air.

They almost look like stars.

 _This is the right decision. I would have eventually died of cancer anyway. And I wouldn’t want Roderich or Elizabeth_ , _Ludwig_ , _Antonio and Francis_ — _I don’t want them to ever see me like that._

_My last conversation with all of them except Ludwig was an argument._

_Oh._

_I’m sorry._

He closes his eyes. His entire body is tingling, and it almost feels as if his pain is melting away.

_Should I really be—_

_No. Don’t regret this._

_Think about happy memories._

_Well, there was when I first met Roderich. Except his name wasn’t Roderich. I named him after a horse._

_Elizabeta decked me in the face when we first met. Francis told me I looked like a freak. Antonio just giggled and refused to talk._

_And Ludwig._

_You were such a cute kid_. _A kid_ _who immediately went through a bunch of shit, but…_

_At least you’re in a good place now._

He feels lightheaded.

_Rod…and Liz…I’m going to miss…_

_It…’s fun_

_…’ve had… fun…_

_Lud…_

_‘Tonio and Francis…sorry, ‘tonio…_

_At least…at Basch’s…_

_Got to…make some amends_

_Yao and Iv…_

_Ilse?_

_She and Halim…_

_Mr. Swiss Man._

_Robert…_

_He and Kazimir…_

_…them._

_Why_ —

“Es wird okay sein,” Bavaria whispers.

_Okay…_

Just like when he washed the sink, flushed the paper towels down the toilet, and returned to the party, keeping his hand in his pant pocket, no one seeming to notice as they all counted down the start of the New Year.

Das war spaß. Das war okay.

“We’re opening room 2C.”

Mit dieser neuen Stimme öffnen Preußens Augen.

Light floods in as he sees two figures.

“Du hast so hart gekämpft, Liebling,” his mother whispers.

Prussia feels warm.

Sein Vater lächelt. “You tried your best, but it’s time to rest now, okay?”

Seine Schwester streckt ihre Hand aus. Er sieht Bayern nickend.

“GILBERT, WHAT ARE Y̵͓͍O̱̭̝̬̙U̟ ͏D̴̩̫̗̣̗ͮ̿ͦ̏͊̎͗̐ͧͤͩ̂̃̈́̉̅͐̌͝͝͡

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [:)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3-ApMgXaKI&index=25&list=PLF0BBFFEBE9CE6F1A/)  
>     
> Art commissioned from asteroidbluesart.tumblr.com
> 
> Before anyone asks, I planned this from even before I started writing AWH.
> 
> Last update is next.


	33. .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been officially 6 months since I posted this and exactly one year since I finished 'Are We Humans?'
> 
> not edited yet

_2015_ _년_ _06_ _월_ _11_ _일_

“We’re opening room 2C.”

South Korea clenches his jaw, focusing on dragging his body bag. Japan is in front of him; Taiwan and Hong Kong are lagging behind.

“GILBERT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Spain’s voice screeches into his ear.

“What’s going on!?” someone back at base demands.

Hysterical screams.

Crying.

“WHAT’S GOING ON!?”

“Canada and I are approaching the room,” England rushes, out of breath.

South Korea is frozen. Suddenly his head feels tight, and a weird sensation runs through him.

He looks at his body bag, knowing that Robert is in it.

“He’s—he’s gone,” France chokes out, Spain sobbing in the background.

“But what about the Nations!?”

“HE’S GONE!”

“ _What about the Nations_!?”

“They’re all—they’re all gone.”

“We need a visual.”

“THEY’RE ALL DUST,” Spain shrieks. “ALL OF THE NATIONS.”

“He’s—They’re telling the truth,” Canada chokes out. “England and I have a visual. We’re sending it now.”

South Korea closes his eyes just as the people back at base start to argue with each other.

“Continue bringing the human bodies back to the helicopter. Then leave.”

“But wait, we’re not sure if that was all the Nations.”

“This was a mistake. Retreat.”

“You Americans don’t get to make the orders.”

“What about the other missing people?”

“ _Retreat_.”

South Korea shuts off his earpiece. 

* * *

 

The helicopters take off, their blades swirling and causing a huge stream of dust.

Dazed, South Korea watches as they rise off the ground, watches as a clear view of the entire city unfolds down below.

Well, it was once a city.

Normally, there’s light pollution at night, but now South Korea can see the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper.

Everything seems so calm.

It’s nauseating.

He shifts, no longer being able to stomach the sights outside. Instead, he looks at those around him. The noise from the helicopter is loud, so he can’t hear anyone, but…

He can see the tears streaming down Antonio’s face; can see Francis holding his head in his hands, his body shaking.

Both holding pieces of clothing left over from Gilbert.

The silent tears leaking out of Arthur’s eyes are visible.

Matt’s pinched eyebrows too, and how he looks so lost.

Alfred’s eyes, still tinged red from the injections, seeming blank, his whole body still.

Ivan of all people with tears staining his cheeks; his eyes still red, appearing in shock.

Yao’s eyes squeezed shut, his hair tangled, a look of exhaustion etched onto his face, seeming old. Suddenly seeming so old.

Mei looking like a shell-shocked kid who can’t comprehend what’s going on.

Kha Loung, shaking, crying, seeming angry.

And him, South Korea. Yong-Soo.

He lets out a shudder, and tears leak out of his eyes, but their helicopter keeps flying. Time keeps moving.

_It’s over._

Kazimir and Robert are dead, Halim and Ilse are missing, Halim’s niece and all the other Nations are dust.

Gilbert is gone.

_But it’s over._

All the loose ends from the road trip, it’s all taken care of.

So many people are dead, but this story in their lives is finished.

They’re all crying out of sadness, out of devastation.

But Yong-Soo is also so relieved. 

* * *

 

“What should we do now?”

“Blow the compound to pieces.”


	34. Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited yet

_2015_ _년_ _07_ _월_ _01_ _일_  

It’s a cool, drizzly day, but funeral services are still being held outside.

South Korea takes a deep breath, climbing out of the taxi. He then checks his phone and realizes he’s a little early.

_I could text Kha Loung and see if he’s there._

_No. Just…go in and be patient._

He takes another deep breath, trying to quell his nerves, and walks into the funeral home. Once inside, some ancient-looking guy directs him out back to a garden where there’s a ‘viewing’ going on.

Except there isn’t a body, so it’s kind of hard to call it that. Instead, there’s an empty casket set up, lid closed, apparently filled with the bits of clothing France and Spain snagged. Surrounding the casket are photo collages and paintings of Prussia.

Standing by them is Germany, Austria, Hungary, Spain, and France.

Not many Nations have arrived besides them, Japan and Italy being two. They’re talking to Germany. Romano is also here, having a conversation with Spain. South Korea doesn’t know if they made up, but from the looks of it, it seems they have. Liechtenstein and Switzerland are chatting with Austria, Hungary, and France, and England and his brothers are scattered. England is by France, seeming lost in thought. His brothers are off to the side, all studying the pictures.

Rows of empty foldout chairs are facing the casket, and South Korea dodges them as he walks over to the collages. He thinks he sees Japan glance at him, but he doesn’t feel too inclined to walk over and strike up a conversation.

The pictures are a random mishmash of time periods, most from the 2000’s. Half are weird selfies. Others are of Prussia at various celebrations, posing with a bunch of people.

South Korea looks for any sign that he could have had cancer, could have been in pain.

But there’s none.

There are some pictures from the 90’s, South Korea can tell from the fashion, but not much. Instead, there are more from the early 1900’s.

Prussia looks stiff in most. It’s almost comical.

South Korea continues walking, only stopping when he reaches a painting.

_Oh._

It’s of all the German states.

They’re dressed up, posing together, and Prussia is in the middle. On his lap is Germany, who’s just a little kid, and they all look…happy.

_Everyone here except Germany is dead._

“Hey.”

South Korea turns and sees Japan, who nods at the painting. “This is the only surviving one, apparently. The rest were burned.”

South Korea searches for something to say. “It’s impressive, I guess.” He pauses. “Are there any left of you, Yao, and me?”

Japan shrugs. “If there is, he’d have them.”

Italy nudges Germany. Germany cracks a wary smile.

“You can join them again,” South Korea finds himself saying.

Japan continues studying the painting. “Feliciano is better at cheering people up.”

“Out of everyone up there, though, Germany seems the least affected,” South Korea mumbles. _Does he really need cheering up?_

Japan is dismissive. “He bottles up his emotions.”

“Ah.”

“It’s also been a month, so…he’s had time to grieve.”

Some moments pass. South Korea fidgets. “Okay, sorry this is bothering me. Did like, Spain and Romano…?”

Japan shakes his head. “No. But they’re on friendly terms now.”

“Huh.”

“What about you?”

South Korea blinks. “What do you mean?”

“How are you and Kha Loung?”

“We haven’t talked much, to be honest. But it’s…it’s okay.” He pauses. “How are you and Alfred?”

“The same, I guess.”

South Korea makes a noise of acknowledgment.

“What about you, though?” Japan nearly whispers. “How do you feel?”

“…Better.”

“So your government has been okay to you?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how long this is going to last, and I know it won’t, and there’s some shady shit going on, but right now…it’s been okay.”

Japan nods.

“What about you? Has your government been treating you well?” South Korea asks.

“Yeah.”

A breeze picks up.

“I think… _everyone_ has been okay,” Japan continues. “I think our governments are afraid of mistreating us because they don’t want… _that_ to happen again. I know this fear won’t last, but for now…”

South Korea looks at the sky. “Yeah, I’ll take it.”

Japan chews his lip. “I just really want communications between us to have a sense of normalcy soon.”

“Once the Palestine situation gets better, I’m sure they will.” They make eye contact. “I mean, protests are dying down,” South Korea says.

“Yeah…” Japan pauses. “I just miss talking regularly to everyone, I guess. I have a limit to how long I’m allowed to do a video chat, or how many text messages I can send. I just want things to go back to how they once were.”

“Same, but it hasn’t even been a month yet. Give it time.”

“Are you actually trying to be positive?”

South Korea rolls his eyes.

Japan smiles. “I’m happy—”

China hits both of their backs. “Are you two actually having a civil conversation?”

“We are capable of such,” Japan mutters, wincing.

South Korea looks over China’s shoulder and sees Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Macau walking over.

“How are you doing?” Japan murmurs when they get here.

China seems unbothered. “I’m okay.”

“He’s just in a good mood because he’ll get to see Ivan soon,” Taiwan snorts.

China doesn’t deny it. “He’d said he’d be coming early.”

“You’ve talked to him recently?” Japan asks.

China nods. “I don’t know what new approach our governments are trying with this, but…I won’t complain.”

They have a lighthearted banter for a bit, Hong Kong somehow ending up next to South Korea in the middle. They don’t talk to each other directly, but their arms bump every now and then, and they lean into each other’s personal space.

It’s nice.

Talking to everyone is nice.

As soon as Russia arrives, though, China completely abandons them and makes a beeline for him.

With Russia, comes a bunch of other Nations, and South Korea finds himself wandering away from everyone. Not because he feels like an outsider or anything, he’s just lost in thought.

He looks at the surrounding environment. They’re on the outskirts of West Berlin, so while it’s urban, nothing feels too claustrophobic.

South Korea picks at a cuticle; then looks up and observes everyone. He sees Hong Kong talking to India and watches fondly.

“You have a crush.”

South Korea blinks, turning to face Vietnam.

She continues talking. “You’ve been staring at him for a solid two minutes.”

“Well, you were watching me stare at him, so you’re equally as bad.”

Vietnam cracks a smile.

“I’m surprised you’re here.”

She shrugs. “Well, basically everyone else was coming.”

“True.”

“Plus, it’s like a reunion, I guess,” Vietnam murmurs. “The last time we were all together was when…”

South Korea sighs. “Yeah. At least there are bathrooms here.”

“We could make a Piss Plant for old times sake.”

“Don’t forget the Piss Chairs.”

They both snicker, then pause again, during which South Korea finds himself watching Hong Kong. At one point, he briefly glances at Taiwan, who’s now talking to Ukraine of all people, but his attention only holds for so long, and soon he finds himself staring back at—

“When did this happen?”

South Korea jerks his head. “What happen?”

Vietnam smirks. “The crush.”

“Oh.” South Korea pauses. “Am I that obvious?”

Vietnam shrugs. “That and you didn’t deny it.”

“Ah.” South Korea looks at the sky. “Somewhere in between all of this mess; that’s when it happened.”

Vietnam makes a noise of acknowledgment. “What about him and Mei, though?”

“Well, Mei is a lesbian.”

“Okay, that’ll do it.”

South Korea makes eye contact; then looks away. “And I don’t know. Me and Kha Loung, it just…” His chest feels weird. “It happened.”

“Does he feel the same way?”

Something in the back of South Korea’s mind wants to deny it, wants to feel insecure and uncertain.

But he fights it.

“Yeah.”

Vietnam smiles. “Good.” She pauses. “I had a crush on you, you know.”

South Korea frowns. “Um.”

“Maybe still do, but I’ll get over it. I’m just glad you two are happy. Both of you, after those two months, you deserve it.”

“Lien.”

“You really deserve it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

“There’s Anantachai?” South Korea finds himself saying after a few moments. “To like…” He gestures vaguely.

Vietnam nearly bursts into laughter. “No. He’s like—no. I love him, but not like that.”

“You could date Mei.”

“I could. She seems to be flirting with that white Nation, though.”

“I’m pretty sure Ukraine is straight.” South Korea blinks. “Wait, are you not straight?”

“Are _you_ not straight?”

“I mean, I like Kha Loung, so I guess.”

“Then I guess too.”

They both look at each other and snort; then sit in idle silence. South Korea wants to join everyone else, but he feels somewhat exhausted, so instead, he watches as more and more people arrive.

Vietnam shifts after a couple of minutes. “It looks like Anantachai and John are here. I’m going to talk to them. Do you want to join?”

“Nah, I’ll stay here for a bit.”

“Okay.” She pauses. “You know, if you ever need to talk about what happened, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Lien.”

She smiles. As she walks away, South Korea sits on the edge of a wall, staring at the painting again and feeling weird.

_He’s really dead._

Sometimes it and everything else is hard to process. Like, he’s half expecting to hear Prussia laugh or have him make some crass joke and cause a scene.

But that’s never going to happen again.

South Korea rubs his face and checks his phone. The ceremony is supposed to start in fifteen minutes. He doesn’t think it’s going to be religious. The only thing the invitation said was to wear black. Prussia never seemed particularly religious either, but what does he know.

America sits next to him.

South Korea blinks. “Hey.”

“I honestly don’t know how it’s possible to talk about cats for ten straight minutes, but Italy is somehow managing it.”

“The relationship between him, Kiku, and Germany is just really bizarre to me.”

“Kiku seems entertained? I dunno. But Italy’s rant about cats invited Greece over, and I just can’t understand the dude, so.”

“I’m glad I’m your second option to hang out with.”

America rolls his eyes.

“How are you doing?” South Korea asks.

“I’m…actually okay. Well, besides for this election crap I’m now being introduced to.”

“Shit, already?”

“Yeah. At least Trump is dead.”

“Your political views are showing.”

“Oops. I mean, _darn_ , Trump is dead.”

South Korea snickers; then rubs his face. “I wouldn’t mind my leader just fucking off.”

America frowns. “Is she being bad to you?”

“No. No, people are being weirdly nice to me. Like, rules are strict, and I’m monitored, but it’s not bad. Park is just…I don’t know how much I can reveal and not leak information, but I don’t care. She’s doing shady shit, basically.”

“Love that shady government shit.”

“Yeah…” South Korea sighs. “She has this weird advisor too.”

“Even better.”

They people watch for a bit.

“Ivan and Yao look okay,” America murmurs after a few minutes, studying them.

“I think we all are for the time being.”

America fidgets. “I know this situation isn’t permanent, but I—God, I still hope everyone’s stances towards Nations have changed. I hope they’re not looking for the Nations that’ll be reborn.”

South Korea’s stomach churns. “I hope so too, but…” _We need to stay realistic._

America frowns. “I still see that day in nightmares.”

“Same,” South Korea mumbles.

“I just want to put it behind us so bad.”

“Well, this funeral is the first step.”

America grips his pants. “Yeah,” he says in a small voice.

South Korea knocks their legs together, and America cracks a wistful smile. “I know we weren’t even that close, but…I still miss him.”

“It does feel weird knowing that he’s gone,” South Korea murmurs.

“It feels weird knowing that an entire city is gone.”

“Alfred, don’t think about it.”

America runs his hand through his hair. “At least aid is pouring in. That’s like, the only way I can cope with this.”

“Israel is now being forced to recognize Palestine as an independent state too, so that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah…shit, though, I’m just happy the protests are dying down.”

Japan must have some sixth sense to tell when America is getting agitated because suddenly, he’s there.

Both South Korea and America blink. “Y-You can keep hanging out with everyone,” America blurts out.

Japan frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” America answers quickly.

Japan angrily side-eyes South Korea.

_What happened to you being nice to me?_

“We were just talking about what happened.” South Korea stands up. “Are there assigned seats, or can we sit wherever?”

“We can sit wherever,” Japan mumbles, taking South Korea’s previous spot next to America. “But the ceremony doesn’t start for at least another five minutes.”

“I know.”

South Korea leaves them and walks over to Hong Kong, who’s now talking to Thailand, South Africa, and India.

When Hong Kong sees him, he pauses and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” South Korea murmurs.

“I don’t think there’ll be a religious service,” South Africa continues. “Nothing was mentioned.”

“How long is this even supposed to last?” India asks.

“Yao mentioned something about how those standing up front are going to give a tiny speech or something, and then we’ll proceed to the burial site with the coffin,” Hong Kong mumbles.

India tugs at both South Africa and Thailand’s sleeves, and wordlessly, the three leave.

“Well, bye then,” South Korea mumbles.

Hong Kong leans his head on South Korea’s shoulder.

South Korea’s face feels hot. “Hey.”

“Hey…” Hong Kong looks up, his cheeks tinted pink. “How are you doing?”

South Korea shrugs while Hong Kong stands up straight. “Funerals suck.”

“Yeah,” Hong Kong mumbles.

They’re silent as they watch some people set up the stage.

“Do you ever think about that day?” Hong Kong whispers after a bit. “Because Yao and Mei…they never talk about it. I don’t know. I’ve been afraid to talk about it too.”

South Korea squirms. He wants to echo what he said earlier to America about how they shouldn’t dwell on their past actions, but he also doesn’t want to shut Hong Kong down.

“We killed people,” Hong Kong continues, his voice choked. “We killed so many, for nothing! We didn’t even save Prussia. How—how do you reckon with that?”

South Korea’s eyes glaze over. “Sometimes, the battles you fight in don’t work out.”

Hong Kong frowns.

South Korea sighs. “Sometimes people have to die for shitty reasons, I guess. That’s how I deal with it.” The Chinese man with the gun pops into his head, and suddenly he feels exhausted.

“You’ve…killed a lot of people in the past, haven’t you,” Hong Kong mumbles.

“On horseback waving a sword around to chop off people’s heads while screaming like a maniac.”

Hong Kong cracks a tiny smile.

South Korea slinks his arm around his shoulders. “Just focus on the positives right now. It’s how we’ll keep moving forward.”

“Poetic.”

“Thanks, I try.”

Hong Kong glances at the pictures of Prussia. “If there is some sort of afterlife, I hope he’s with his family.”

“Oh. That’s a thing I guess we never got closure on.” _Especially now that Halim and his niece are dead._

South Korea drops his arm. Hong Kong fidgets. “Maybe we’re not meant to know.”

South Korea opens his mouth.

“And I’m fine with that, I guess,” Hong Kong mumbles.

“There’s still a whole future ahead. Maybe one day, we’ll figure it out.”

Hong Kong blinks; then gives a warm smile. “Yeah…”

People are sitting down now.

“We should probably take our seats,” South Korea murmurs.

Hong Kong nods, and they walk over to a bunch and sit down, their other friends clumping around. Taiwan sits on Hong Kong’s other side, Vietnam next to her, and China sits next to South Korea, flirting with Russia the entire time.

America sits with his Western friends, Japan staying close to him. South Korea makes eye contact with him at one point and smiles. America offers one back.

Up front, Hungary appears to be adjusting a microphone. Everyone sits patiently and waits for her, Austria, Spain, France, and Germany to finish preparing. While this is happening, Hong Kong shyly takes South Korea’s hand.

He gladly accepts it.

Hungary finishes setting up. It’s silent as she fiddles with some notecards. She then pockets them and clears her throat.

“T-Thank you all for coming.

“I know all of you weren’t friends with Gilbert. He had a personality that you either liked or hated. It’s…something I’ve always appreciated about him. But nevertheless, thank you for coming.

“We want to say a few words about him, kind of like a way to pay our respects. I’ve been practicing mine, so I don’t think I’ll get choked up, but if I do, I’m sorry in advance.”

Hungary takes a deep breath.

“Gilbert was…he was different. He hated being different, but he was. He was albino. He insisted on calling us human names. He…hated listening to authority when he didn’t agree. For us, that was something unheard of.

“We fought a lot when we were little, both in and out of war. But he never seemed vicious or mean about it, at least to me. He always took things nonchalantly.

“I think the first time I truly saw the serious side of him was when he told me that all the other German states were dead. I mean, other Nations in Europe have died before. I knew some of them. But…this was different. Gilbert just seemed…he was broken when he told me.

“For the first time in my life, I was suddenly so invested in the life of another Nation. Never before did I think a Nation close to me could die, so.

“B-But he kept living. He always had this way of proving me wrong. And then—” Hungary breaks off and takes a deep breath. “The Great War happened. It finished, though and the Central Powers lost. But when we went to the Palace of Versailles, Gilbert almost died on us again.

“I—” Hungary takes another deep breath. “I was hysterical when it happened. I tried not to let it show, but.” She closes her eyes. “His arm dissolved. Nations had died before, but I had never seen how. Yet Gilbert, he somehow stopped the process.

“I realized I was in love with him that day. Funny, right? Love between Nations is taboo. And it took him almost dying in front of me to realize my feelings, but…

“I’m going to miss him. I’m really going to miss him. I appreciate everything—” Her voice breaks. “I appreciate the time we’ve spent together. I’m devastated it had to end this way. I’m angry he decided to suffer alone, but he’s the person who…just wanted to have fun. He hated being pitied. I don’t know. I’m rambling now, sorry.

“He wasn’t religious, even though he represented a religious group at one point, but I just hope that wherever he is now, he’s no longer in pain.”

She hands over the microphone, ducking away to wipe her eyes. Germany squeezes her shoulder.

Austria, microphone now in hand, looks like a deer caught in headlights. He then clears his throat, suddenly wearing a dignified expression. “Gilbert named me after a horse.”

Snickers.

“Yeah.” Austria takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I can say much. I loved him. I’m going to miss him. I—” His voice breaks. Spain pats him on the back. “I just wish I could have seen him one more time. B-But I know this was a long time coming. He’s no longer—he’s no longer in pain. So I—”

Hong Kong squeezes South Korea’s hand. As Spain guides Austria off to the side, giving the microphone to France in the process, South Korea glances at the painting. Prussia’s figure almost seems to stare at him.

France takes a deep breath. “Gilbert was my first friend, the first person to truly see me as a human. I don’t think there’s too much for me to say, but…

“I forgot who I was when I was being tortured by the Nazis. Every day I thank Gilbert for what he risked then to save me. He was brave. He possessed an attitude towards life that I envied.

“I tried to repay Gilbert for saving me. He hated that word. But…” France closes his eyes. “Everyone involved in the plan likes to take the blame, say it was their fault.” France opens his eyes. “I am guilty of such; I’m the one who came up with it. Sometimes I regret it, but…not today. I’m happy Gilbert was able to have those years of peace. I wish they could have lasted longer. I wish he would’ve been more open with us. But at least I can rest easy knowing that this time, he died on his own terms. Not by losing a war or having his territory stripped from him. This time, he made the decision.”

South Korea sees France make eye contact with England. England nods encouragingly.

“I’m going to miss him,” France whispers. “I’m really going to miss him. But in his honor, I’ll try to celebrate his life and not grieve over his death.” He squeezes his eyes shut, Hungary reaching out to comfort him just as Spain takes the microphone.

The breeze from before dies down.

“I’m angry Gilbert is dead,” Spain murmurs. “I think we’re all angry in a way. Because after everything we went through, he’s just…gone.”

Spain leans his head back, looking off to the side. “It was a rough two months for all of us. I think for the rest of my life I’ll regret my last conversation with Gilbert being an argument. But there’s…no use wallowing in the past.” He faces the crowd. “I don’t want to ramble on, but I’m just happy at the person I’ve become because of Gilbert. It’ll be a struggle without him, but everyone has to keep living their lives…for his sake.”

He hands the microphone to Germany, and as that’s happening, South Korea notices a break in the clouds. A sliver of sunlight shines through, resting on some of the photos and paintings before being covered up again.

Germany takes a deep breath. “It was around 1 AM,” he murmurs. “There was a celebration going on for the German unification, but I was tired, so Gilbert led me to my room. He stayed with me for a bit, and then I drifted off. But he came back later, and when he did, I woke up.

“He left, but I followed him. He didn’t notice me and slipped back into the party room. I cracked open the door to see what was going on. I was a little kid. I didn’t want to miss out on the fun.

“But when I opened the door, only Bavaria was in there, so I was confused. Gilbert was too. He asked where everyone was. And…” Germany frowns. “Bavaria told him that they were dead.

“Scared, I tried to stick my head through the crack to peek around. Bavaria was right; there was discarded clothing everywhere, piles of dust. They were actually dead. And when I looked back at Bavaria, he was also dissolving.

“He and Prussia yelled at each other for a bit. I was frozen. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I just went into the room, but…I didn’t. I just watched as Bavaria disappeared right in front of my eyes.

“Gilbert was silent when he was finally gone. He just stood there. Again, I thought about going in, but something stopped me when I saw him staring at his hand.

“It aged slowly, and then after a few moments…turned to dust.

“Gilbert remained frozen for a while. It was almost like he was in a trance as he slowly dissolved in other spots. But then something must’ve registered in his mind because he suddenly freaked out. He freaked out and fell into the door; knocking the crack I had open shut. My face was pressed up against it, so I was thrust backward, and then he started…” Germany closes his eyes. “I want to say that was the only time I’ve heard him scream like that, but that’d be a lie. He started screaming and thrashing, so I panicked and got help. When we came back and opened the door, there was blood everywhere.”

Germany cracks a smile, opening his eyes again. “He doesn’t know I saw. I never told him. The next morning when he was better, he gave me some bullshit explanation about what happened to everyone, tried to treat me like a kid. I…always appreciated how he attempted to do that, and I wish things could have stayed that simple.

“But they didn’t.

“I aged. The First World War happened, and then…he almost died right in front of my eyes again. But still, I was frozen and couldn’t do anything. However, he lived. He still lived.

“He was weaker, though. He didn’t want to admit it, nor did I, but I could tell. I was just happy he was still alive, so I tried to ignore it.

“Ignoring things and putting my head down is what I tend to do. It works in some situations, but…it backfired during the Second World War. Gilbert was the opposite of me. If he didn’t like something, he’d speak out. So he was the one who suffered, while I…

“By speaking out against Nations being tortured, he was tortured himself. I even had to watch—” Germany closes his eyes. “All those times he was ‘taught a lesson,’ he—he screamed like the night Bavaria died. So after that, I thought the war would never be over, but somehow…”

Germany opens his eyes. “Hitler shot himself; and afterward, Roderich, Gilbert, and I were left to our own devices. No one cared about us anymore, especially once the Soviets started their invasion. During the final day of it, we somehow ended up at the top of an abandoned building. I can’t remember much, I was too injured, but when the building was shot down, it was almost like…relief.

“But then at Cecilienhof Palace, Gilbert almost died again. I…I was so injured I wasn’t even conscious.”

Germany gives a sad smile. “Even though no one ever talked about him directly after the event, some small part of me knew he was alive. He had lived two times before, so I was almost in denial that he could actually die. That’s why when I found out he was being held in some Soviet base…

“I wanted to help, but even so, I still was afraid to get deeply involved with the plan. Even after everything, I was still afraid to go against orders. I… wonder what would have happened if I did get more involved. Would I have been with him these past two months? Who knows…

“But Gilbert was rescued. After more than twenty years of not seeing him, at that point, everything felt like it was going to get better.

“And it did. It really did. Eventually, the Cold War ended, and the Berlin Wall fell, and Germany was going to be reunited.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think twice about what that would do to him. He mentioned in a letter once that the Soviets made him represent East Germany, but I thought nothing of it.”

“I wasn’t there when he almost died on 3 October 1990. I…never found out until three months ago.

“I wish he told me. I wish he didn’t go out of his way to try to hide that he was in pain, but I know why he did it. When I found out about him having cancer, I…almost acted nonchalantly. He survived four times before. I thought it was somehow possible for him to beat this new hurdle and move on. While he was gone these past months, I vowed to start a new chapter in my life, perhaps. I wanted to make the best use of our time together. I told myself I’d try to become more outgoing, maybe bend from following the rules a bit. I even promised Gilbert that I’d let him get the pigeons he’d been begging for for about thirty years. But…

“This time, he finally died.”

A ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds again.

“Like Francis said, I’m happy that this time, it was on his own terms. And all of us who miss him, Gilbert would be angry that we’re feeling sorry for ourselves like this.

“So today, as we’re here in remembrance, let’s just celebrate that he lived. Let’s remember all the good things that he’s done. As for me, he’s taught me what I want in life, and I…I’m thankful. Just, don’t forget him. And in his honor, we’ll keep living as Nations.”

The clouds break apart even further.

“As humans…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (commission from: http://sapphonics.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I’ve been to three funerals before, so I… am pretty certain this is how these things function.
> 
> I’ve also never been to church in my life, so including anything religious is always a stretch for me.
> 
> (And one funeral I went to was like, Extremely Catholic™. They kept saying stuff and had people repeat it back. And everyone was doing it but my brother and I?? We comically looked at each other in a fit of panic and mouthed random shit. And then afterward everyone got drunk so we sat in the corner. Anyway) 
> 
> [Here’s the song I always imagined playing during this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqWixE_2_CE&index=7) 
> 
> And hats off to the people who realized I shoehorned all three titles into that last paragraph


	35. …and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited yet

(۲۰۲۰/۰۸/۱٤)

 _14 August 2020_  

“Alright, we’re heading out now.”

“What, I don’t get a hug before you leave?”

“I hugged you this morning.”

Her uncle pulls her into an embrace, and Juhaina rolls her eyes and reciprocates.

“Poor Dalia is being left out,” Ilse coos, spreading her arms.

Dalia backs up. “Aunt Ilse, that really isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense!”

“Ack.”

“Group hug!” her uncle yells, squishing all four of them together.

“GROUP HUG?!” Kyrgyzstan shouts from wherever she is in the house. Juhaina hears her running down the steps.

“No thanks,” Mongolia mumbles from where she is on the couch. Kazakhstan stands up from the chair across from her and drags her over. “Hey!”

Kyrgyzstan flies down the stairs and practically catapults herself into them just as Kazakhstan and Mongolia embrace everyone as well.

A couple of moments pass. Juhaina feels squished. “Is this really necessary?”

Her uncle grins. “It’s your birthday! We’re allowed to be like this.”

“Uh-huh.”

Everyone breaks apart, and her uncle pats both her and Dalia on the head. “Alright, have fun you two.”

Juhaina’s face is flushed. “Yeah, okay.”

Dalia places her hand on Juhaina’s shoulder. “We will!”

“And you’ll be back tonight?” Ilse asks.

“Yup! Don’t worry!”

“Don’t have sex in the car,” Mongolia deadpans.

Kazakhstan knocks the back of her head just as Juhaina smirks. “Oh, we’ll have crazy—”

Dalia pulls Juhaina out the front door, her face flushed. Once outside, they head over to the car, Dalia taking the wheel.

Juhaina hates driving.

“Got everything?” Dalia questions, adjusting her seat since Juhaina’s uncle was in it last.

Juhaina checks her purse. “Yeah. Do you have your passport?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Let me plug in my iPod.”

“Hey, I was going to—”

“It’s my birthday. I’m the DJ today,” Juhaina interrupts, smiling.

“ _Fine_.”

Dalia pulls the car out, and Juhaina leans her head against the window, scrolling through her phone. “What way are you taking out of the city?” she mumbles absentmindedly.

Dalia shrugs. “I was going to exit through the southeast zone.”

“Isn’t there major construction going on today?”

“When isn’t there?”

“True.”

Juhaina picks a song, and they listen in contented silence. Her thoughts start to wander, though, as she peers at the passing cityscape.

In the five years since the…attack, there have been major construction projects, something going on every day. But even so, there are still a lot of destroyed buildings, infrastructure…

It’s a start, at least.

People are afraid the UN will pull out aid at any moment, but thankfully that hasn’t happened so far.

Juhaina closes her eyes.

The morning after the attack, everything was awful. When she woke up, she was in such an unbelievable amount of pain, and the compound above them was completely obliterated, so they were nearly trapped.

Mongolia found a way out, though, because for whatever reason, she, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan stayed.

For a while, they tried looking for the other Nations, but it’s been five years. They’ve come to the conclusion that they were either taken, or somehow…

Juhaina opens her eyes.

The first day after the event, when they made it to the street, there was so much destruction, and death, and the feeling of hopelessness. Yet miraculously, people lived. They were broken, their love ones were dead.

But they were alive.

Almost immediately, aid poured in. UN troops flocked to the area. The Red Cross sent out doctors; food banks were set up.

Juhaina can’t really remember the first weeks afterward. She was in too much pain. But gradually, even that faded.

An official explanation was never given as to why Palestine was bombed to the ground. Foreign governments evaded and evaded questions until reporters got bored of asking, and at that point, more interesting news sprung up.

Thankfully, reconstruction efforts still took place, including the international recognition of Palestine as a country.

Israel immediately threw an outrage, but those protests quickly died down to a dull roar. Juhaina is pretty sure that the US, China, and Russia threatened them. And some Palestinians would have liked for Israel just to have been dissolved altogether and have the land handed over to Palestine, but…

This compromise works.

Following the attack, everything was eviscerated. Anyone’s personal documents or registration information, all were gone.

To combat this, the UN set up temporary offices for those living in Palestine to apply for citizenship.

After living in a shelter for three weeks, trying to stay as low profile as possible in fear that government operatives would find them, Juhaina’s uncle applied all of them for citizenship, getting them all new identities.

So…

Ilse and her uncle are now married. Though Ilse’s new name is Isabel. Her uncle’s is Hassan. They still call them by their real ones at home, but they’re careful out in public. They’re always careful.

Isabel and Hassan Kader. The Kader’s.

Jumana and Danielle Kader. She and Dalia also have had name changes to protect their safety. Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Mongolia also finally have human names.

Mongolia didn’t really give two shits about coming up with hers. She didn’t even care if it was Mongolian or not, so her name is Maha. She chose it because it was the same as some volunteer’s who worked at the shelter they stayed at for a while.

Kyrgyzstan’s is Jamilya. She googled ‘top names in Kyrgyzstan,’ and it was one of the first to show up.

Kazakhstan put effort into picking hers. She researched common ones in Kazakhstan, then after deliberating for a while, settled on Aiganym because she liked its meaning.

Maha, Jamilya, and Aiganym Kader. Jumana and Danielle. Isabel and Hassan.

Juhaina’s passport says she’s twenty, but she barely looks it. She knows that, in the future, she’ll somehow have to change her identity again, but that’s something to worry about later.

Instead now…

Juhaina, Dalia, and Kazakhstan are studying at the local university that the UN set up. It’s been a challenge, especially since none of them have ever had formal schooling.

But they’re all determined.

Thankfully, the university is free, but Ilse and her uncle still support the family by working. Her uncle is a doctor while Ilse works as a secretary at his hospital. At one point, she was offered a job in a local government building, but she turned it down in fear it would give away her low profile.

Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan, on the other hand, didn’t want to go to school, so they’ve set up their own small business as repairmen. They’re…actually doing great for themselves.

In school Juhaina is attempting to study history. She wants to learn what she should have as a Nation. She doesn’t quite know what job she’ll get yet, but…

There’s time.

Dalia is getting a basic business degree since her plan is to become a translator.

_“I mean; I can translate anything.”_

Juhaina smiles to herself.

Kazakhstan is studying religion. She too doesn’t exactly know what she’s going to do with that degree, but Juhaina knows she’s passionate about what she’s learning, especially since she’s finally feeling more connected to her country by doing so.

Juhaina has thought of turning to religion just as her mother did, but it’s hard for her to accept the idea of it.

Maybe in the future.

They have a whole future ahead of them.

As for now, they’re lying low, and it seems to be working. They were scared in the beginning that someone would find them, Juhaina barely left the house the first year, but…

They’re getting braver.

It helps that they have new identities. It helps that they’ve changed their appearances, and know how to be careful, and that more and more foreign bodies are pulling out of the country.

Sometimes, Juhaina will hear her uncle and Ilse talk about the future, talk about their old lives. Ilse will speculate what happened to Prussia, Halim will wonder what happened to the Nation program, but none of them ever push for answers.

Juhaina knows one day that her uncle and Ilse will die. She can see them getting older. But they’re planning for it, so at the moment…

Juhaina stares out the window.

They take it day by day.

 

* * *

 

Dalia nudges her. “Hey.”

Juhaina’s eyes flutter open, and she sees Dalia leaning over her, having gone outside and opening Juhaina’s door. Her locket is dangling from her neck.

“We’re here.”

Juhaina smiles sheepishly. “Did I fall asleep?”

Dalia giggles. “Yeah. It’s okay, though.”

Juhaina climbs out of the car, and they both pause and stare the building.

“Should we go inside?” Juhaina whispers after a few moments.

“I don’t know; it was you who wanted to do this.”

Juhaina fidgets. “Alright, then yeah. Let’s go.”

They start walking.

“It looks exactly the same,” Dalia murmurs.

Juhaina examines the mall. “It does.”

They enter, the cool gust of AC hitting their faces. It’s pretty crowded, families are everywhere doing their weekend shopping, and the atmosphere is nice.

“You still know where it is?” Dalia whispers.

Juhaina nods.

It takes a couple of minutes, but they eventually find themselves at the playground.

Juhaina feels dazed. “You’d think after all this time, they’d come up with a new design.”

“It does look the same, doesn’t it?”

“Even after we destroyed it. Look, it’s that same slide, the one that we got trapped under.”

“Ah, the memories.”

Families walk by. Children laugh.

_People are happy._

“I’m sorry your parents died,” Juhaina whispers.

Dalia takes her hand. “And I’m sorry your mother did too, but…I’m happy I met you.”

“Even if we became Nations?”

“That only means we’ll be together for a long time.”

“Yeah…”

Juhaina watches as two little girls run around and squeal, grinning from ear to ear.

Dalia shifts, cupping Juhaina’s cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I love you,” Dalia whispers.

“I love you too.”

And then by the slide where it all started, they kiss. 

* * *

 

(30 сентябрь 1953 года)

 _30 September 1953_  

“No, wait. Hold on. I’ll get us ice cream.”

“Frank, you do not have to—”

He jogs over to the cart.

“Get us…any,” Kazimir finishes.

Robert fishes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Just let him.”

Kazimir shoots him a glare; then sighs. They’re sitting on a bench in New York City’s central park.

It’s the middle of a UN session right now. They should be at the building, but…

“The letter exchange is at the end, right?” Robert asks, cigarette in mouth.

Kazimir feels anxiety building up in his throat. “Yes.”

“Did Russia pay you again?”

“Yes.”

Robert lights his cigarette and inhales the smoke. He breathes it out. “Well, the first exchange went okay, so this second one should be fine too.”

Kazimir frowns, and Robert offers him a cigarette. He scrutinizes him.

_You were somewhat of an ass to me the last time. Why are you being so nice right now?_

“You want one or not?”

Kazimir takes it. “You’re extra civil today.”

“Frank is here.”

“…”

“He really wants us to get along.”

“That is why he is buying the ice cream.”

Robert looks away. “Yeah.”

Kazimir lights his cigarette and breathes in.

“You know,” Robert mumbles. “This’ll work out; stop worrying.”

“I am not worrying.”

“It’s written all over your face.”

Kazimir glares at him.

_Never mind what I thought in Ottawa; you’re intolerable._

Frank jogs back over, wearing a goofy smile on his face. “Which flavor do you want?”

Robert and Kazimir glance at each other; then back at Frank.

Robert sits up straight, dropping his cigarette and smothering it with his heel. “Alright fine. Give me the vanilla one.”

Kazimir takes the chocolate. Frank then sits in the middle of them.

It’s a nice day. It’s warm for late September, and they sit in silence for a while, eating ice cream and watching people pass by.

Kazimir feels weirdly at ease, even if he is in the USA.

“This is nice,” Frank then murmurs.

Kazimir glances at him, feeling stupidly in love. “What is?”

“All three of us being together.”

“…”

“We should do this again in the future.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [art commissioned from vicious-mongrel.tumblr.com & marinovannyeogurchiki.tumblr.com]
> 
> First I’ll say this. Thank you. Thank you for spending six months with me and reading this. I never even thought people would look at AWH. So the fact that people followed me for this sequel?? Just. Thank you.
> 
> AWH… I’ve been daydreaming of this universe since I was 15 in 2012. As someone who is turning 20 in less than two weeks—I can’t believe this piece of shit show has taken over my life and has literally influenced my career path. 
> 
> At first, only two people and a paperclip were reading. I didn’t expect much at all, honestly. I know hetalia isn’t as a big of a fandom as it once was, and the fics don’t receive that much traffic as other fandoms, so…now this is still just… surreal for me
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, guys ^^
> 
> And RIP Prussia. U R my Son™
> 
> As my brother would say when I was in my mega hetalia phase in 2012—“He’s fucking dead, Maddie.”

**Author's Note:**

> blog:[arewehumans](http://arewehumans.tumblr.com) (or) [lordsardine](http://lordsardine.tumblr.com)
> 
> [music for the au](http://arewehumans.tumblr.com/music)  
> If you want to chat, you can call me neioo or Maddie :-)


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